


in want of (an us)

by kissteethstainred



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, background raven/bellamy & harper/monroe, if jasper's not erased he's an antagonist Count On That
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 21:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9090892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissteethstainred/pseuds/kissteethstainred
Summary: Monty adamantly believes that Nathan Miller had a hand in breaking up Bellamy and Raven, and thus hates Miller for it; the universe has other plans. or: a pride and prejudice au





	

**Author's Note:**

> i promised myself that i would ONLY write this au if i kept it under 10k and i was fucking lying to myself oh my GOD. for some reason i was inspired by xmas to finish this and here it is, in all its glory. this fic has been more than frustrating (you don't even know) so i REALLY hope you guys enjoy!!!!
> 
> title inspired by the book

“I thought you said she was doing well,” Harper says, watching Raven as she weaves her way through the tables. Raven left to get more drinks after taking everyone’s requests, and it was the perfect opportunity to talk. Harper and Monroe had turned to Monty the second she was out of earshot. 

“No, I said she was doing _better_ ,” Monty says. He glances over to where Raven is talking to the barman. “I know better than anyone what her coping methods are like.” 

Monroe leans on the table with her elbow. “That guy really just . . . disappeared?”

Monty snorts. “Basically. He stopped calling, stopped texting, stopped interacting on social media. To her, he’s disappeared.” Monty wishes he would completely disappear from Raven’s mind and heart as well. 

Harper frowns. “What a jerk move.” She takes a handful of peanuts from the basket in front of her. “That was Bellamy, right? I met him at Maya’s party, but I didn’t think he was that bad. He was really cool, actually.”

Monty points his finger at her. “Exactly! I thought the same thing when I met him, and I was really excited that they seemed to get along. It was such a shock when he dropped off.” Monty shakes his head. “I am willing to bet _hard_ money that it wasn’t his idea to end it with Raven. The way his best friend looked at that party . . .” Monty shakes his head. “I swear, he had it out for them.”

Monroe says, “Is this the guy you wouldn’t stop ranting about?”

“Yes!” Harper and Monroe both laugh, but Monty doesn’t mind. “He is an absolute jerk. I tried tolerating him, I really did”—they had even, for a moment, danced together, but that had turned on its head in seconds—“but the way he was looking at everyone, like he was above it all and like Bellamy was lowering himself . . . God, stop me now. I’ll just keep going and going.”

Monroe glances over to make sure that Raven is still occupied. “Wait, this was Bellamy’s best friend?”

“Miller,” Harper says. “And trust me, Monty isn’t exaggerating that much. I talked to him for all of two minutes before his rudeness turned me off and I just went away.”

“Lucky for you,” Monty says. “Raven was getting with his best friend, so we were paired together _everywhere_. It was insufferable.”

“Assholes hide their true nature,” Monroe says with a shrug. That signals the end of that conversation, since she turns to Monty with a smile. “By the way, Wells got back to me about the business convention in a couple weeks and he said you’re definitely welcome. _Tons_ of businesses are looking for smart tech and computer people. We can totally share a hotel room.” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, but get a business card of some sort. Wells has _a lot_ of connections, and we’re even having dinner with Abby Griffin one night, so be on your best behavior. Dress nicely, say your _ma’ams_ and _sirs_ , all that shit.” 

Monty raises his eyebrows. “Abby Griffin? You’re kidding me.” 

Monroe shakes her head as she pops some more peanuts into her mouth. “Totally serious. Apparently Wells’s dad knows her well or something like that. It’s all serious business.”

Harper interrupts with a, “I’m sorry, but who is Abby Griffin?”

“She’s the head of The Griffin Company,” Monroe says. “It’s a _major_ media company, pretty much the leader in it. But she can be a bit . . .”

“Hardcore?” Monty offers. 

“I was going to say vulture-like, but sure,” Monroe says, and they all laugh.

They don’t even notice Raven approaching the table with all their drinks in hand. “Now I know you can’t be talking about me,” Raven says, “because I am beautiful and no one would call me _vulture-like_.” 

They all laugh again. “Not even close to you,” Monty says, taking his beer from her hand. 

“Besides, you guys finished talking about me earlier,” Raven says as she slides back into her spot besides Monty, not caring that they all freeze. “What, you thought I wouldn’t notice? Sorry, but ever since Monty and I moved in together, I can read him like it’s my reflection.”

Monty grimaces around his beer. “I’m sorry. We’ve just been worried, since lately—”

Raven waves her hand around. “I know, I _know_ ,” she says, wrapping her arm around Monty’s shoulders. “I know it’s because you care. But I’m out tonight with friends and I don’t want to talk about my shit love life.”

Harper and Monroe pick the conversation back up again, and Monty pretends to be paying attention while he watches Raven. She’s engaged, but it’s obvious her mind is elsewhere, and troubled. Raven may be able to read him like her favorite novel, but Monty can do the same as well, and her nonchalant manner earlier worries him almost as much as the amount she’s drinking is. 

He’ll watch over her, though, like he always does.

\--

Monty, a hesitant and inefficient packer, stuffs three more shirts in his suitcase and says, “Are you sure you’ll be fine?”

Raven rolls her eyes. “Monty, I can take care of myself.”

“I know that,” Monty says, pushing his clothes down in an attempt to make the clothes fit in the suitcase. 

“You have too much stuff in there,” Raven says. “It’s only a four day convention, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but you know I’m bad at choosing professional clothes to wear, so I have to bring options for Monroe to help me with.” He decides to move some clothes around to better fit in the space, and he’s able to get the zipper completely closed. When he turns back to Raven, she’s looking at him in amusement. “Look, I know I keep smothering you with this stuff, but let’s be real for one moment. Finn fucked you up—he _did_ —and now Bellamy has proven to be an asshole too, so just . . . you don’t have to pretend you’re fine. Honestly.”

Raven crosses her arms over her chest, and for a moment, Monty watches her throat work and worries that he offended her. Then she says, “I know. But it’s . . . I’m not mad or heartbroken that he broke it off. Some people just don’t feel it, you know?” Monty wants to tell her that he does know, but he doesn’t believe it—he knows, in his heart, that Bellamy’s feelings for Raven had been real, and this is _Miller’s fault_. “I just want to know why he won’t even talk to me. That’s not . . . we weren’t even officially dating yet and he’s acting like we were married and divorced or some shit. That hurts. We were friends before anything, and I . . . I want to know what the fuck happened. I think I deserve that.”

She’s frowning by the end of her speech, and Monty says lightly, “Maybe clutching onto that is why you can’t move on?”

Raven groans. “Ugh. Why are you acting like a voice of reason? Half of your relationships went up in flames.”

Monty grimaces, because she’s not wrong. “Don’t forget, half of the ones that went up in flames _I_ put the torch to.” That gets Raven to smile a little. “Or maybe you can finally let go once you find out why he did it,” he says. “But please, don’t go so far that he gets a restraining order.”

Raven rolls her eyes. “When have I _ever_ been that kind of ex?”

“I’m just saying, you like to get up to wild stuff when I’m not here,” Monty says, raising his hands in the air to affect innocence. 

“Who knows, maybe you’ll be the one getting into trouble,” Raven says. 

“Yeah, right. At a business convention, with Abby Griffin and Marcus Kane?”

“At least you’ll have Wells and Monroe with you.”

“And apparently Abby Griffin’s daughter is a party girl underneath, so we’ll see.”

Raven laughs. “Okay, be honest. How many of the companies you’re going to try to work for could you hack?”

Monty shoots Raven a _look_ and says, “I plead the fifth.”

Raven smirks. “You’re wasted on these companies.”

“Sadly, I need their money.”

“They’re lucky you’re on the side of the law, otherwise you could steal all their money right from underneath their noses just by using the right code.”

Monty hefts his suitcase off of the bed. “If this weekend doesn’t work out for me, job-wise,” he says, “then that’s my backup.”

\--

Monty thinks that the universe is eternally laughing at him. 

The first day of the business convention had gone well—he and Monroe had pretty much followed Wells around, happy to use him as their go-between (and Wells had no complaints), and handed out business cards whenever they could. Monty got used to summarizing his skills quickly, and he found that saying he was best at _security_ rather than _hacking_ made a world of difference. 

The first night was the dinner with Abby Griffin, and Monty and Monroe made sure to act their best—Abby welcomed them professionally, and she was ever the perfect host—and Monty went into the dining room to find Nathan fucking Miller standing there. 

The universe has to be having a good laugh.

Monroe, at first, kept peeking at Miller, saying, “Oh, that’s him, isn’t it? He seems awkward, honestly. Is it bad if I want to talk to him, just to gauge him?”

Wells was just plain confused by Monty freezing around Miller, but Monty didn’t explain fully.

A woman talking to Miller laughs, and Monty refrains from rolling his eyes. Anger pitches in him so suddenly that he moves to the kitchen to refill his drink, even though he’s only had a little, because he needs to move. 

This is the thing about Nathan Miller. Monty hadn’t even needed to talk to Miller to start disliking him; all Miller had to do (and _did_ ) was walk into the room. They had been at a party where they’d also been invited, and Miller had stood behind Bellamy, already looking disinterested and bored. Bellamy was a social butterfly, but his best friend and sister Octavia remained to themselves, refusing to talk to anyone but themselves and Bellamy.

Bellamy had taken an instant shine to Raven, and Raven had been hesitant but pleased, and they spend pretty much all of the night talking. Monty had seen the way they looked at each other and approached Miller (because he knew something might happen, and never say Monty wasn’t a good wingman), but Miller had been closed off and rude. He didn’t want to dance, or drink, or get high, and he didn’t see why anyone needed to do these things to enjoy life. He spoke with such disdain that they escaladed into an argument in seconds. Octavia finally broke them apart, saying that there was other places for Monty to be where he wasn’t starting fights (as if it was _his_ fault), and when he went around the corner, he heard Octavia say, “It’s funny, Miller. I thought you usually liked them feisty.”

There was a pause before Miller said, “He’s not handsome enough to tempt me.”

Monty had choked on a laugh and decided that he was going to avoid Miller for the rest of his life. 

Sadly, his original intuition had been correct—Bellamy was flint, and Raven was steel: when they collided, it created a spark, and then a flame. Monty ended up being dragged to many events (that looked like double dating whenever Octavia wasn’t there), and almost every time, Monty and Miller broke out into a fight. Raven chastised him for starting most of them (maybe a solid ninety percent) but Monty couldn’t help it—Miller seemed to needle him and _enjoy_ it. They fought over everything, from books to movies to politics to food. Miller always had to argue against him, always had to take a different point of view, always had to make Monty know that whatever he thought, there was always something wrong. Even if it was the tiniest detail.

And the worst part? Miller claimed he wasn’t even part of it. “I’ll engage in Monty’s discussions,” he said when Octavia asked why they were always fighting, and Monty had seethed at _discussions_. “But I’m not purposefully antagonizing him; we just happen to disagree and expand on it.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Monty said with a sardonic laugh, “you are _infuriating_.” He had to join Bellamy and Raven after that, third-wheeling be damned. He couldn’t be around Miller any longer or he’d just explode with anger and say stuff that was truly unforgivable. 

It all came to a head at Maya’s party. The party tended towards the wild side, since Maya was still in college and invited tons of her college friends, and Monty could tell the second that they entered the house that Miller disapproved. He again wouldn’t talk to anyone besides Octavia and Bellamy (and Raven), and a frown seemed to be permanently on his face. Avoiding Miller had been easy, up until Miller asked Monty to dance; Monty had been surprised, but it had quickly become apparent that Miller was making fun of him. Miller had known Monty liked to dance, and the conversation they had—the wildness of the partygoers and how well Monty knew them, all said in a derisive tone—only made Monty exasperated. In a fit of anger, he’d stopped dancing in the middle of the moving bodies and snapped, “If you’re only going to shit on everything and everyone here, do it to someone who wants to hear it.” 

Miller had frowned and replied, “Why do you find an argument in everything I say? I only asked you how you know the people here.”

Monty hadn’t realized how close they were in that moment, yelling in each other’s faces over the pounding music and heavy bass, and said, “Whatever, Miller,” before pushing his way out of the dancing crowd.

After that, Miller permanently sat at a table outside with Bellamy and Raven, and although he didn’t talk, he seemed intent on their conversation. His eyes roamed over everything, from the drunk kids everywhere to Jasper, high, walking around and offering weed to everyone there, to Raven’s face as she talked with Bellamy, and finally he met Monty’s eyes. Monty’s stomach had dropped at the look he saw there. 

Two days later, Bellamy Blake stopped responding to Raven’s calls and texts. He unfriended her on social media, his sister (who got along with Raven) pulled away as well, and it was like they never existed at all.

Monty will never forget the look on Miller’s face. It’s all he can think about while Wells talks with Marcus Kane about some new law being passed, since Monty can see Miller throwing him _looks_. 

Miller finally gets his moment when they sit down to eat at the dining table. Abby requests that Clarke sits next to Wells, so Monty obediently moves to her seat. Miller glances at him but says nothing, not until they’ve sat down and everyone else has been pulled into conversation except for them.

“Are you well, Monty?” Miller asks. 

“As much as I can be,” Monty says. He forces himself to ask, “You?”

“Good,” Miller replies, and a silence falls over them that they use to put some food in their mouths. 

Monty chews his chicken with a little more force than necessary, and finally asks, “How’s Bellamy doing?”

If Miller is surprised, he doesn’t show it. “He’s good,” Miller says. “Focusing on work and his sister.”

“He’s _good_ ,” Monty repeats, and tries not to think about how Raven is still trying to get over him. “Raven’s doing well, too, if you were wondering.”

Miller sighs. “It was my next question, but I’m glad she’s doing well.”

Monty hates him with such a ferocity that he is surprised he doesn’t break the plate with his vicious cutting, like in _The Incredibles_. 

Abby finishes talking to Wells about the absence of a media and tech representative on his team and turns to Miller and Monty. She inquires after them both, which is a relief—Monty can put a professional face on and ignore Miller as much as possible. Miller is the head of an online securities company that his father started, and he has partners in high places; Monty is merely a hacker (albeit _incredibly good_ one) who has experience to qualify as head of securities in a high-tech company. Abby seems impressed by his skills and inquires further, but Monty is glad when she turns the conversation to someone else. 

“You know, I had to ask Raven about your job,” Miller tells him.

“Why is that?”

It’s weird, but Monty almost thinks that Miller is smiling. “You argued me on every possible subject,” he says, “that I didn’t know what you studied in college, or what your job was. Then she told me and I was . . .” He searches for the appropriate words. “Equally impressed and scared.”

It’s even weirder, but for a moment, Monty almost smiles back. “Scared?” Monty echoes. 

“I’m the head of an online securities company,” Miller says. “It’s not the same thing as being a hacker, but she told me you were a good one.”

Monty splutters into his salmon. “I am— _not_ —”

Miller’s maybe-smile turns into an even bigger maybe-smile. A definite but small smile. “Even I can recognize one when I see one,” Miller says. 

“Going to warn everyone off me?” Monty says, not quite sure where Miller is going with this.

Miller’s definite-but-small smile goes back into a maybe smile, but it isn’t as playful as before—Miller’s eyebrows pull down the tiniest fraction, like he wants to furrow them but pulled back at the last second.

Miller says, “I—” but is cut off by Kane, who turns Miller fully into his conversation. Monty is left with Abby Griffin, who, as it turns out, can only talk about business and herself. 

“And I was telling Marcus—Kane, obviously, you’ve met him, haven’t you?—that changing the logo to something more modern or _fresh_ will help, especially with the younger crowd, and wouldn’t you know it? He enlists my daughter’s help—you’ve met Clarke, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I talked with her earlier,” Monty says, wondering if this woman really thinks he didn’t meet someone at this seven person dinner.

“Well, she’s an artist,” Abby says, though with a small frown. She lowers her fork on her (nearly empty) plate and leans forward towards Monty a little, as though sharing a secret. “I wanted Clarke to inherit the business, of course, she denies it but she has such an _eye_ for these things—and what does she do? Pursues _art_ , of all things. It’s sickly, is what it is.”

“I mean, the two are related in some way,” Monty says.

Abby leans back and narrows her eyes at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’re running a company based of social presence, media presence, and marketing,” Monty says. “You could argue that it’s all connected to art. I mean, what is marketing without ads, artistic ideas that change people’s perceptions? Logos to identify each company and make them separate from everyone else, make sure they’re distinctive? Companies always need something fresh, are always striving for creativity—and what is art if not pure creativity?” 

Abby stares at him with some shock, and when Monty glances around uncertainly, he can see Clarke and Miller looking at him as well. 

“My, you give your opinion strongly for someone of your age,” Abby says, a stiff note in her voice. “And your _position_. You’re searching for a job here, aren’t you?” At Monty’s nod, she says, “And you dare to speak to superiors, to possible future employers in a such a manner? I would never let my employees speak to me in in that way. The absolute lack of _respect_ it shows, I don’t understand where this younger generation gets the idea that they can speak in such ways.”

“Some employers enjoy those who speak their minds,” Miller says, as though he was in the conversation the whole time. “How are you to know when mistakes are being made, or when there’s a better idea, if you don’t hear other’s opinions?” 

“It’s not his opinions,” Abby says, to which Monty almost rolls his eyes. “It’s his tone.” 

Miller makes a small _hmm_ sound, like he would disagree but knows his place. Or knows that maybe it’s not worth it.

Monty has never been like that. He speaks his opinions freely, even if it’s flammatory—his entire relationship with Miller shows that.

Abby finishes the food on her plate, and then, as though the previous disagreement hadn’t happened, she says to Monty, “Anyway, Clarke is still pursuing her arts, but I invited her to this weekend because I wanted her to talk to Wells. He has an open position for a media and tech representative, and I thought, why, no one would be better for that position than Clarke. She’s worked a lot at my company, of course, even with her little art passion, and she’d be perfect for the job.” 

“ _Mom_ ,” Clarke says, in an exasperated tone that clearly says she and her mother have argued over this many times. 

“And Clarke and Wells grew up together, did you know that? Wells’s father, Jaha, was another leader of a major company—which Wells has now inherited—and my husband and I were the leaders of ours. Wells and Clarke both grew up with leadership ability, they’ve been destined for this since their childhood . . . We always knew this was a long time coming.” 

“It almost sounds like they’re getting married,” Miller says to Monty, low enough that only he hears. “Imagine her horror when she finds out Clarke is dating a girl.”

Monty almost chokes on the rest of his salmon in an attempt to fight off his laughter. He drinks something to soothe his throat, trying to sift through the weirdness of Miller being nice and cracking jokes. 

After the dinner, Wells approaches Monty where he’s sitting comfortably on the couch, flopping down next to him. Wells has a small glass of wine, where Monty has been sipping water for most of the night—he’s not a wine person. They sit in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes, before Wells said, “I didn’t realize you and Miller knew each other.”

“What?” Monty looks over to where Wells watches Miller enter the room. When Miller sees them looking at him, he gives a small smile and makes his way over.

“I mentioned how you two seemed to get along well at dinner,” Wells says, “and he said you guys had met previously.”

Miller probably hadn’t explained the context, Monty thinks bitterly, as Miller finally stands in front of them.

“Speak of the devil and they appear,” Wells says, and Monty has never heard anything more apt about Miller in his life. 

Miller raises an eyebrow. “You know, usually people don’t admit to talking about others behind their back.”

“That’s because those are shit talkers, but we’re your friends,” Wells says. 

Monty face wants to make a doubtful expression, but he manages to keep his expression neutral. Miller doesn’t do the same—he glances at Monty, eyebrows raised in disbelief, and says, “I don’t think Monty would agree.”

Wells looks surprised at this, and he says, “What? I thought you two got along well!”

“When we first met, it wasn’t quite as good,” Miller says. Wells turns disbelievingly from Miller to Monty.

Monty explains, “We were at a party that Drew hosted, and Miller was rude to pretty much everyone in the room.”

Miller looks uncomfortable, and Monty thinks, _Good_. “I’m not good with large parties and . . . talking to people,” Miller says. Monty raises an eyebrow and gestures around the room, but Miller just shakes his head. “I know everyone here already. It’s easy for me to talk with them. At Drew’s party, or Maya’s, when I don’t know everyone there . . . it’s hard for me.”

“Do you know how you get to know new people?” Monty says. “You talk to them. Strange, isn’t it?”

Wells laughs, and Miller’s mouth twitches into a small smile again. “There you go again,” Miller says, with something in his tone that Monty can’t place. If Monty really thinks about it, it sounds like admiration. But Monty isn't thinking about it. “Blocking me at every turn.”

“I just don’t get you,” Monty says, and he realizes that this, at least, is honest of him. Not sarcastic or snappish, just plain honesty. “You’re rude upon first meeting and then . . . what? You can’t talk to people? That’s it?” Monty shrugs. “I don’t understand how you can be the leader of a company and not know how to talk to people. I’d say that’s bad for business, isn’t it?”

“It’s different,” Miller says. His tone has shifted again; he’s almost frowning. “They’re professionals, and there’s a certain . . . _script_ to those people. They want the same thing, attention or money or deals or whatever. Meeting someone from scratch, with an absolute blank space . . . it’s difficult. Maybe not for you, Monty. You’re a people person. But I’m not like that.”

Monty finds he has nothing to say, which must surprise them both, because when Monty remains quiet Miller shakes his head as if to focus himself. Monty needs to focus again, too. _He’s become too complex, too confusing_ , Monty thinks stubbornly. _Don’t forget about Raven_. 

Monty remains quiet and watchful the rest of the night.

\--

The next day, Monroe, Wells, and Monty eat dinner out together, deciding to forgo the invitations by other business leaders to eat out with them. Monty is glad for it, and is almost ready for the weekend to be over, despite it only being the second day. All this schmoozing and smiling gets to you. 

Halfway through the meal, Monroe gets a phone call from Harper, so she excuses herself to take it, a large smile on her face. When she’s outside of the restaurant they’re in, Wells turns to Monty and says, “I have a proposition for you.”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“You know how I need a tech representative at my company?” Monty nods his head. “I was thinking about offering it to you,” Wells says. 

Monty opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. “Me?” he says. “Wells—”

“I know it’s strange,” Wells says. “I mean, I brought you to a convention to find a job only for me to offer you one. And you definitely don’t have to take the job, it’s just an offer—consider every offer you’re getting. But . . . I think you’d fit in well, and it’d be nice to have someone I trust there.” Wells smiles. “It all seems to work out.”

Monty is still in shock, because this is _huge_. “Really?” he says. 

“Again,” Wells says, his smile warm and patient. “Just think about it. No rush.” 

“Wow.” Monty nods, still dazed. “Of course, just send me an email of what your terms are and I’ll look over it. I’m . . . honored, honestly. Thank you for considering me.”

Wells shrugs in his humble way. “It was nothing. You should thank Miller, honestly. He’s the one who put the idea in my head.” Monty can feel his shocked expression turning into something more like confusion, his mouth twisting bitterly. Wells catches the look on his face and says, “Look, I know your first meeting was bad. And your experience with him has been different from mine, but he is truly a good man. You know I don’t advocate for bad people, Monty. I really don’t.” 

Monty nods, because it’s true. It’s what Monty had originally thought of Bellamy, since Bellamy had been so _nice_. Monty had told Raven, “How can Bellamy be friends with Miller? They’re so different,” and Raven had shrugged and said, “We don’t know them _that_ well, Monty.” 

“Here’s an example,” Wells says. “Miller has this friend named Bellamy—they’ve been best friends since elementary school, basically, and they’ve always been there for each other. Well, recently Bellamy got interested in this girl”—Monty feels his stomach drop and his palms itch, a strange horror filling up inside of him—“but Miller could tell that Bellamy was going to get his heart broken, so he helped Bellamy get out of the bad relationship. Miller’s deathly loyal to those he cares about.” 

Monty almost can’t even hear Wells over his pounding heartbeat. He coughs before speaking to make sure that his voice is neutral. “How did he know that this girl was bad for Bellamy?” Monty asks. He wonders what Wells would say if he knew the girl was Raven. “What were her bad qualities?”

Wells shrugs. “I didn’t get that much into it . . . I think it was something about the friends she hangs out with. Or, no, it was . . . she didn’t really like Bellamy that much? I don’t know for sure, you’d have to ask Miller.” Wells takes a drink of his iced tea, giving Monty a small smile when he’s done. “But see? He’s not as bad as you think.”

“Oh, yes,” Monty says. His voice is faint. “He’s a shining star.” 

\--

After dinner, Monty tells Monroe and Wells that he’s going to walk back to the hotel. They ask him if he’s sure, but he insists that it’s only four or five blocks and he can make it back safely. 

“Call us if anything happens,” Monroe says, “I’m serious. I’ll be in the room, so you can just knock.”

In reality, Monty stays in the restaurant for a little longer. He buys a small dessert—a chocolate cake with some raspberry sauce—and eats it as he thinks over Wells’s words. _I think it was something about the friends she hangs out with. Or, no, it was . . . she didn’t really like Bellamy that much._

Either one could be the correct one, Monty thinks. His feelings switch from miserable to furious and back again in seconds. Miserable, because Raven is fucking heartbroken and they were worried she would break Bellamy’s heart. Then furious, because why did _Miller_ get a say in it, and how come it was okay for Bellamy to break Raven’s heart, and it was all so unfair, and then back to miserable again when he thought of the look in Miller’s eyes at the party.

Monty _cannot believe him_.

Finally Monty pays for his cake and leaves, but of course, to his luck, it starts raining once he’s a block over. 

“Of course,” Monty says, tilting his face to the sky, “because the day couldn’t get any shittier!” 

The universe is apparently dead set on challenging him, since a car pulls up next to Monty and a voice says, “Monty, are you insane?” 

And of course it’s Miller.

“Get in the car,” Miller says, leaning over to open his passenger seat door. Monty contemplates not getting in, purely because he hates Miller so much in this moment, but he’s already soaked through. 

He gets in, only because he really does need a ride and he can get Miller’s car wet as well. It’s a double win.

Miller turns the heaters up so Monty isn’t freezing, watching as Monty buckles his seatbelt and warms his hands up. He asks, “Are you okay?”

Monty hates the warmth in his tone. “I’m _fine_ ,” he says, snapping a little. 

“Obviously,” he says. “I, personally, love being soaked through.” Monty shoots him a look, still holding his hands out in front of the air vents. Miller frowns. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem upset.”

“I _am_ upset.” Miller raises his eyebrows at Monty, as if trying to prompt him, and Monty leans back in his seat with a short laugh. “You’re joking. Are you really going to sit there and act like you have been this entire weekend? The nice act isn’t fooling me.”

Miller stares at him, bemused. “What are you going on about?” he asks. 

“Us. This entire weekend. Acting like we’re buddies and not people who hate each other.”

Miller is quiet. Monty notices that he hasn’t started the car yet, and they’re just sitting there, the rain pounding down on the car. “You hate me?” Miller says. 

“You’re joking, right? Have you not been present for our every interaction?”

For some reason, this is really stumping Miller. He stares out of the windshield, watching the rain wash down the glass, and remains quiet. Monty would be lying if he said that it doesn’t make him uneasy, the way his hands grip the steering wheel (loosely, like the fight has been driven out of him but he can’t let go) and the hard way his mouth is set.

Finally Miller says, “Octavia was right.”

“What?”

“Octavia—” Miller laughs. “Octavia said you would never feel the same way about me and I—I don’t know, I thought that with this weekend there might have been a, a change but—of course, I’m so fucking stupid, you _hate_ me.” 

Monty feels like he’s back in high school, first learning how to code, how little _ERROR!_ notifications kept popping up, how nothing would compute, because Miller’s words do not make sense. _Feel the same way?_

“Of course I hate you,” Monty says, because he can think of nothing to say. “You’ve been incredibly rude since the first day I’ve met you, every argument we’ve had you’ve been condescending and acted like you knew everything, you’ve—what are you talking about, why are you acting like this is news—”

“Because I’m in love with you, you _idiot_ ,” Miller says, and every thought in Monty’s brain dissolves. All Monty can do is stare at Miller, all he can do is watch the _ERROR!_ notifications pop up in his brain. Miller takes a deep breath, says, “Whatever,” and starts the car.

“You’re not in love with me,” Monty says, unable to say anything else. Miller can’t, he _can’t_ , he absolutely can’t—Monty’s entire relationship with him has been built on their mutual hatred. It’s impossible to think that in every fight, in every harsh word they’ve said against each other, Miller was falling in love with him. And Monty only hated him more.

“Yes, I am,” Miller says. And then, after a pause, “Most ardently.”

Monty closes his eyes. All he can hear is the rain, and he wishes he’d never gotten in the car. How could he have _known_ , that Miller felt that way, that getting into a car would upend his world, that a simple gesture could escalate to this?

“Miller,” Monty says, his voice strained. “How? How could I fall for someone who has been so rude to me? How could I fall for someone for what they’ve done to my best friend?”

Miller jerks back at that, giving Monty a quick glance as he drives. “What?”

“You’re going to deny it? Deny that you purposefully broke Raven and Bellamy up?”

Miller is quiet for a moment, and his voice is strong and sure when he says, “No.”

Monty thought he would feel triumph when he finally heard Miller admit it, but all Monty feels is tired. “How could you?” Monty says. “What gives you the right to break the hearts of two people?”

Miller takes his time answering, his mind seeming to focus on the drive. Finally he says, “I thought Raven was indifferent.”

“ _Indifferent_?” 

“I saw how they interacted—Bellamy falls in love easily, and he fell for her fast, but Raven was . . . reserved, she wasn’t as interested, and I didn’t want Bellamy’s heart to get broken.”

There were no words to describe Monty’s fury. “She had her heart completely broken before by some asshole, why shouldn’t she be reserved with her heart again?”

“Bellamy’s had his heart broken before too, that’s why I thought she was indifferent. Reserved was the wrong word.”

“Raven hardly tells her true feelings to me!” Monty exclaims, and there is a horrible, crushing silence that follows. Monty closes his eyes and tries to get his emotions in check, realizing that he’s revealing stuff he hadn’t quite wanted to. 

“I did what I thought was best,” Miller says, “even if you don't believe me.” 

Monty’s voice is as hard as concrete. “You were _wrong_.” 

Miller drives up to the hotel, and a girl comes up to help them out. Miller waves her away with a tired, “No, thank you,” and leans back in his seat once the car is in park. His hands scrub over his face, and Monty feels the motion deep in his chest—this single argument feels like it’s aged him.

“So this is what you think of me,” Miller says. Monty looks at him and can’t tell what emotion is warring in his chest—guilt, sympathy, or rage? Everything he knew is shattered. “Thank you for being so honest with me. It’s certainly been . . . enlightening.”

For a wild moment, Monty almost apologizes. He escapes out of the door before the words come out, and he rushes through the hotel doors without a look back.

\--

Monroe opens the door with a, “Finally, we thought you’d drowned—holy shit, what happened?”

Monty opens his mouth and nothing comes out. Monroe ushers him into the room, peering at him closely and asking, “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Monty says. “I’m going to take a shower.”

Monroe lets him go without much fuss, but he can tell she’s still worried. Monty locks the door behind him and turns the shower on so high that it would usually burn him, but after being soaked, it just feels blissful. He runs his hands over his shaking body and tries to think of anything except the conversation he had with Miller in the car, but it’s all he can think about. He hears _because I’m in love with you, you idiot_ the most, and it makes his stomach squirm.

When he exits the bathroom, Monroe jumps up from the bed to look at him. “I don’t know how you did it,” Monroe says, “but you look even shittier than when you first went in to take a shower. Are you okay?”

And Monty finally just says, plainly, “No.”

\--

Monty still feels sick the next day, and it’s all because of Miller. _As usual_ , he thinks, and then remembers that he can no longer think that. Everything has turned upside down. Monty knows he’s not wrong in saying that Miller is an asshole, because he _was_ —but Monty also knows that his own opinion of Miller skewed every interaction after that. Monty started most of their arguments, and Miller just went along. Monty knows he needs to be held accountable for his own actions as well, and maybe that’s why he feels so sick. Having to deal with your own faults is nasty stuff.

Or maybe it’s still the echo of Miller’s _I’m in love with you, you idiot_ still ringing in Monty’s head. The way he’d closed his eyes for a moment when he sighed, the defeated tone when he’d said, “ _Whatever_.” 

_Most ardently, he’d said_ , Monty thinks. Miller had kept his eyes on the road all throughout that part of the conversation, and while it can be blamed on driving, Monty gets the feeling Miller didn’t want to look at him. Even when he’d parked in front of the hotel, he’d avoided Monty’s eyes until he’d said _So this is what you think of me_. 

Monroe is worried when Monty begs off of the rest of the day’s activities, claiming sickness, but Monty finally convinces her to leave, telling her to make the most of her time at the convention. He proceeds to spend the rest of the day in bed—although he does try to put his mind elsewhere, in books and TV, but it doesn’t go anywhere—thinking about _that_ conversation. 

If he spends half of it sick to his stomach, thinking about everything he did wrong and all of Miller’s feelings, he spends the other half stuck on what Miller said about Raven. _Indifferent_ , he'd said, and that Bellamy would get his heart broken. This half of thinking, at least, makes Monty enraged all over again. Monty’s not sure what Bellamy’s past heartbreak has been, but Finn had known Raven since they were three—to be cheated on by both friend and the love of your life was something Raven dealt with years later. It affected so many of her relationships with others. And Miller had only furthered this heartbreak.

Sometimes, Monty feels so guilty he wishes he had apologized in the car. Other moments, he’s so enraged he wishes he had punched Miller in the car. 

Monty orders room service so that he can eat, feeling too badly to go outside, no matter how pathetic that thought it. He suddenly wonders what he’ll tell Raven—all of it? He can just tell her about Miller’s feelings, but maybe she’ll be so shocked she’ll ask for the whole story. Monty’s not sure if he could lie to her about something like this.

Besides, it can make it better. Maybe if Raven knows that Bellamy had really fallen for her, that his feelings were real, it will make it easier for her. And she’d wanted to know why Bellamy had left, and although Monty had always said he thought it was Miller’s fault, there’s a difference between speculation based on hatred and a word-of-mouth, face-to-face confession. 

Then again, she may be even sadder, that Bellamy had really liked her and it had all been ruined because of her, her supposed indifference. Monty can leave that out, too, and just blame Miller, but she’d want to know _why_ Miller had done it.

He doesn’t know what to do. 

There’s a small knock on the door, so Monty makes his way over to answer the room service. When he passes the clock, he sees that it’s almost seven—Monroe should be finishing up her dinner soon, and she’ll want to see that he’s better. He doesn’t look sick from a fever due to overexposure of rain, he just looks . . . upset. She’ll want to know why and he’s not sure if he can say it, even to her.

He opens the door and Miller is standing there.

Monty’s first reaction is to slam the door shut, but his brain catches up to him. In the end, he manages a small jerk of the door, but he holds it open. Miller sees the action anyway, and he grimaces just a little.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to talk,” Miller says. 

Monty swallows, unsure. His last _talk_ with Miller hadn’t gone so well. 

Miller sees the hesitation on his face and says, “I promise I won’t take up more than ten minutes. And I can just stay outside, if that makes you feel better.” 

Monty thinks it over and nods, clutching the door a little tighter.

“Monroe told me you weren’t feeling well,” Miller says, and Monty frowns a little. This wasn’t where he was expecting the conversation to go. “She said it was a fever from the rain, but . . . I can’t help but get the feeling that it was because of our conversation. That it made you sick.”

Monty meets his eyes and suddenly it’s like that fight is _real_ , right in front of them. The look in Miller’s eyes is steady, almost defiant—in them, Monty can almost hear the passion when Miller said _because I’m in love with you, you idiot!_ His voice, though, is low and passive, and in it Monty hears the quiet way he’d said _yes, I am. Most ardently_. 

Monty meets his eyes and wonders how Miller gets him so well. 

“You don't have to worry about me saying . . .” Miller makes a frustrated noise. “I want to apologize. I realize that my behavior, these past months, must have been . . . atrocious, for you to have hated me so much. For that, I'm deeply sorry. Had I been aware that I was behaving in an ungentlemanly manner, I would have rectified that immediately.”

“No,” Monty blurts out, opening the door somewhat wider. “I have to apologize. Or, I should apologize as well. I've acted just as badly. We both know I antagonized you, and I did it because I thought you hated me. I thought it was appropriate, and even if . . . Look, there's no excuse. I acted even worse than you, and I'm sorry I treated you that way.” 

Miller nods, although he still looks uncomfortable. “I . . . also wanted to talk about Raven, if that’s okay with you.”

“I don’t know what you’d have to say,” Monty says. “You already said it all.”

“I want to explain.”

“Not apologize?”

This makes Miller draw back for a moment. “I’m sorry now,” Miller says. “I’m sorry now that I know everything, so it . . . doesn’t really count, I suppose.” If it doesn’t, then neither does Monty’s apology, since that’s exactly why Monty apologized. “I wasn’t sorry at the time, and maybe . . . there’s a part of me that still isn’t sorry. I know—” Miller holds up his hand, giving Monty a small smile when Monty has already started to argue. “I know it was horrible of me. But Monty, I did it for Bellamy. I did it for _my best friend_. I didn’t know what you knew, I only knew—I _assumed_ —that Raven didn’t like Bellamy back and Bellamy was already losing his heart. I protect those that I care about. You have to understand this.”

“Miller—”

“I _know_ you understand this,” Miller says, voice insistent and strong, “because the love I had for Bellamy led me to breaking him and Raven up, and it’s this same love for Raven that makes you so angry at me.”

And there it is again—Monty looks at Miller, words and breath knocked out of him, in a moment of perfect understanding. Monty realizes that they’ve finally come to a stalemate: in this moment of complete understanding, they’ve wiped the slate clean. They’ve both apologized for their atrocities, and have understood each other’s everything else. 

Miller accepts whatever he sees in Monty’s eyes with a single nod. “That’s all I wanted to say,” he says. “I’ll leave you alone now. I hope that things are better in the future—for everyone involved.” Miller turns away for a moment, stops as he contemplates something, and then turns back. “I won’t repeat the sentiments that were so . . . disgusting to you,” he says, and it makes Monty’s chest hurt. _You idiot_. “I can promise you that. Have a nice day, Monty. I hope you feel better.”

Monty watches Miller leave the small space he’d occupied, his footsteps soft on the hotel carpet. Monty’s still standing there when the room service arrives, at the least five minutes later. 

\--

Raven puts her glass down so forcefully Monty is surprised it doesn't break. Monty’s actually more disappointed that he didn’t get a spit take. “He _didn't_.”

Monty nods his head, his stomach squirming. 

“He really did?” Raven can't believe it the same way Monty couldn't in the car. “He just confessed that he loved you?”

Monty’s face goes warm. “It was different . . . We were in the middle of an argument and . . .”

Raven’s eyebrows raise. “He just blurted it out in an argument? God, that is _so_ like you two.” 

“It was relevant to our argument, since it was about us,” Monty says.

“I bet you handled that well,” Raven says. “And he really said it? He didn't imply it?”

“Really said it,” Monty confirms. “And handled it well? Raven, I felt sick for the rest of the convention. It was . . .” Monty shakes his head, looking away for a moment. “It was bad. I really misunderstood him. I . . . I'm the asshole between us.” 

“Wow,” Raven says, her voice slightly incredulous. Maybe even a little impressed. “You've really changed. Your argument was truly that bad?”

Monty groans and puts his head in his hands on the kitchen counter. “I'm such an idiot,” he says, and in the back of his mind, Miller echoes, _because I'm in love with you, you idiot!_ “I've been so blind.”

“I think we all have been,” Raven says. “Maybe except for Bellamy.”

“Bellamy knew?”

Raven shrugs. “I don't know if he knew, exactly. But we were talking about you two, once, and Bellamy mentioned that it was mostly you who caused fights. He just mentioned in passing that it was possible Miller didn't feel the same way.” Raven takes a sip of her water. “But he didn't say or even imply _in love_.” 

Monty almost says that he wishes Raven had told him so that he wouldn't have been such an asshole, but then remembers that he's not telling Raven about Miller’s involvement in Bellamy leaving. 

He's been nothing but a hypocrite lately.

“Yes, well, just know that if I ever see Miller again, I’m going to shrivel up into, like, a _worm_ from embarrassment. What other animals are weak and pathetic? I’ll turn into a sloth. An anteater. A _sea anemone_ —”

“Stop insulting those animals,” Raven says, rolling her eyes. “And you’re so dramatic. So you fucked up. You apologized, didn’t you?”

“Ugh. I would just prefer to never hear about or see him ever again.” 

Raven doesn’t reply to that, just drinks her water. Monty narrows his eyes at her, his brain working. 

“Raven,” he says carefully. “What is it?”

“What?” she says. “I didn’t say anything!”

“Exactly! It made me suspicious. What aren’t you telling me?”

Raven sighs, putting her glass down. “I can’t believe you,” she says. “How did you know? What the fuck? I don’t say anything and you already know that something’s wrong.”

“Wrong? What’s _wrong_?”

“Okay, I phrased that badly. Nothing’s wrong, I just—” Raven sighs deeply. “Bellamy called me yesterday.”

Monty raises his eyebrows. “He did? Bellamy actually called you? And you _answered_?” 

Raven leans back against the counter. “I didn’t answer his phone call. But he left a voicemail, telling me that he made a mistake and he wanted to meet up to talk.” At Monty’s doubtful expression, she adds, “ _Only_ to talk. He said he wanted to explain everything, and he wanted to do it in person because doing it any other way was . . . dishonorable, or whatever the fuck he said it was.”

Monty says, “He called yesterday?”

“Yes.”

He called on the last day of the convention, then. Monty has a pretty good feeling about why Bellamy wants to talk now. 

“Are you going to talk with him?” Monty asks.

Raven’s eyebrows furrow in thought. “I don’t know,” she says slowly. “I thought—I wasn’t going to. I thought he doesn’t deserve my time, but I do want to know why, and if he’s willing to do it without any expectations of us getting back together, then . . .”

Monty almost doesn’t feel in control of his mouth when he says, “You should see him.”

Raven looks surprised. “Really?” she says. The tone of her voice suggests that she was leaning towards seeing Bellamy, and she was prepared for Monty to disagree. “You think I should?”

“You might as well,” Monty says. “Just hear what he has to say. I think you’ll feel better because of it.”

Raven nods and says she’ll text Bellamy lately, and all Monty can think of is Miller. He wonders if he’ll have to thank him for this, too. 

\--

In the moment of truth, Monty doesn’t turn into any animal.

If it was the real moment of truth, he thinks as he watches Miller from where Wells is greeting them, it would’ve been back at the car, when Miller confessed his love and Monty realized the depths of his idiocy. In that moment of truth, Monty had turned into—something angry, but still small. A porcupine. A _jellyfish_. 

Monty shouldn’t be surprised. Miller is Wells’s friend, he knows that, and Monty has no reason to be surprised or flustered that Miller is at Wells’s birthday party. Monty is unsure whether or not Bellamy is here, but he doesn’t think it would be a huge problem, considering that he and Raven seem to be . . . friends, at the least.

Monty’s pretty sure everyone knows they aren’t _friends_. 

But after Monty greets Wells with a “Happy birthday!” and a hug, after he and Raven get pulled into a conversation with Clarke and her girlfriend, after Monroe takes them into the kitchen to get some drinks, Monty finally has the free time (and the nerve) to approach Miller. 

“Hi there,” Monty says, gripping his beer to keep himself from fidgeting. 

If Miller is surprised, he doesn’t show it. He gives Monty a small, cautious smile and says, “Hello.”

Monty smiles back and sticks out the hand that isn't holding a beer. “I’m Monty Green.”

Miller states at Monty’s hand in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“I figured, with everything that's happened recently, we wiped the slate clean,” Monty says. “We started over. So I'm introducing myself.” Monty raises his hand up again. “Monty Green.” 

Miller takes Monty’s hand and shakes it like Monty thinks a business professional would—a firm grasp, and neither too long not too short. It makes Monty smile. “Nathan Miller,” Miller says. 

“Nice to meet you, Nathan.”

Miller grimaces. “No one really calls me Nathan. Nate is the closest some get, but otherwise . . . just Miller.”

“Well then, _Nate_ ,” Monty says, just to see Miller roll his eyes. “It’s such a coincidence that I would meet you at our mutual friend’s birthday party.” Miller’s laugh is enough to give Monty the confidence to say, “By the way, I wanted to thank you.”

There’s still a smile left over from the laugh on Miller’s face. “What for?” he asks.

“For convincing Bellamy to call Raven.”

A look of surprise flits over Miller’s face. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t,” Monty says gently. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out. You didn’t know Raven had feelings and you told Bellamy to break up with her. You found out that Raven did have feelings and, when you got back from the convention, you told Bellamy to give Raven a call.” Monty shrugs. “I’m really smart, Nate, don’t even bother denying it. So just . . . accept my gratitude.”

Miller looks down at his beer for a moment before looking up. “You know,” he says, “I don’t understand how you can be apologizing for something when you just introduced yourself to me five minutes ago.”

Monty laughs, unable to help himself. “Okay, you’re right,” he says. “But, quick side note: they both look happy, don’t they? Like they might be getting somewhere.”

Miller glances over at the living room, where everyone else is, and says, “Yeah, I agree.” Raven accepted Bellamy’s apology, and they’ve so far agreed to be friends, but Monty is pretty sure they’ll be getting together soon. When Miller’s attentions returns to Monty, he says, “So, tell me what’s happened the past couple weeks. Have you found a job yet?” 

“I’m still going through all the opportunities from the convention,” Monty says. “I have to do all these interviews and applications, and it’s taken . . . more time than I’d like, honestly.”

Miller nods. “What job? Media and tech, right?” 

“Sure,” Monty says, shrugging. “Security, if they need it. That sort of stuff.” 

“My media person, Lincoln, could use an assistant of sorts,” Miller says. “You could work for him until you get hired and use the work as experience.” Miller shrugs. “Lincoln definitely wouldn’t mind the help.”

“But he doesn’t _need_ it,” Monty says, picking out the words underneath. 

Miller gives a small smile. “Come on, Monty. It’s quick and easy. Lincoln is one of the kindest people you’ll meet.”

“I . . .” There’s a cheer from the other room that makes him pause. “You’re sure?”

Miller smiles. They’re very nice smiles. “I’m sure,” Miller says. “You can come in on Monday for a test day if it makes you feel better, and I’ll have Lincoln decide whether or not he wants you.”

Monty nods. “Okay, yeah. That sounds great. Thanks.” 

“I’ll call you for the information, okay?” 

“Yeah, that’s good. Thanks again, seriously.” 

Monty is surprised by how easy it is between them—he’d expected for there to be awkwardness due to everything, but it really is like building up from nothing. Monty asks about Miller’s company and they easily transfer the topic. Monty learns that Miller’s father built the company himself before expanding to what it is now, that Miller took over business when his father retired at sixty, how he and his father managed to mend their fragile relationship because of the business. Monty opens up a little about his father dying and falling behind in high school, going to community college and then transferring, and how he met Raven at college. 

Talking about Raven doesn’t cause any awkwardness, either, and Miller seems to be making an effort to understand her better. There are some things Monty refuses to tell him—anything about her mother or Finn—but he can tell that Miller is doing this on Bellamy’s behalf, and it makes Monty happy.

It’s interesting to learn about Bellamy in the same way. Bellamy and Miller have known each other since middle school and they played on the same football team, and they’ve been best friends ever since. Miller admits to having a crush on Bellamy in high school, which makes Monty laugh. Bellamy even drops into the kitchen to check and make sure Miller is actually socializing, and Miller to roll his eyes. Even with Bellamy’s easygoing manner, Monty can see Bellamy giving Miller these _looks_. Monty has a sneaking suspicion that Bellamy’s worried about Miller talking to Monty, but he squashes the suspicion down. 

He wouldn’t blame Bellamy for wanting to look out for his friend. Monty’s done enough of that already.

Bellamy eventually leaves, and their conversation resumes easily. Miller says, “Hey, remember when you said that television was a better media platform than movies?” 

And Monty replies (indignantly), “That is not what I said! I said that in this modern era television is a better platform because all movies can do is release movies that are based off of something else or sequels to whatever popular movie came out _before_.” 

Suddenly they’re transported back to when they fought all the time, but this is actually teasing and stimulating instead of infuriating. They continuously bring up memories of each other saying ridiculous or mean things, but they laugh at it instead of being mad. It's like meeting someone who knew you in childhood and saying, “Hey, remember when—?” and laughing at all of the embarrassing moments.

Monty is surprised by the fact that he and Miller talk for basically the entire night. They talk in all the time leading up to dinner, they talk to each other during dinner, and if it's not directly to each other, they're both part of the bigger group. And when the night starts to get later and later and everyone is mostly eating sweets and drinking, Monty finds himself stuck to Miller’s side. Miller seems to be in the same situation, based on the way he keeps drifting wherever Monty does. 

When he and Raven finally leave for the 20 minute walk home, Raven takes his arm in hers and says, “It's weird, you know?”

“What is?” 

“Seeing you and Miller get along.” 

Monty chuckles. “I know. I keep expecting it to blow up in our faces, but . . . It seems to be working. And better yet—it's not fake. We’re not forcing ourselves to get along for your sakes, and when we go home we’re seething. We genuinely get along.” 

“It's almost like an alternate universe,” says Raven, her tone almost wistful. “Like how it would've been if this all started out with us getting along instead of all the resentment and heartbreak.” 

Monty can't find anything to say to that. The only thing he can think about was the warm feeling in his stomach while he talked to Miller all night, and he wonders where he and Miller might've been if they really had started out on the right page. 

\--

What especially doesn't help is the fact that Monty starts working for Miller’s company. Lincoln had been—or definitely seemed—excited to have someone else in the office with him, no matter how short of a time Monty was there for. The test day on Monday went perfectly, and Monty started the following Wednesday 

As it turns out, Miller and Lincoln interact a lot. As the head of Miller’s media and tech team, Miller comes to Lincoln on more executive decisions than Monty would've thought: what would happen if Miller’s company voted to help this company? What image would it give them? Was it manageable? What were the long- and short-term effects? 

Monty helps Lincoln gather data on companies, whether it is public opinion or company records. Lincoln has many people working under him, but Monty is his right hand man for the time being. Miller wasn't lying when he said that Lincoln was one of the kindest people Monty would ever meet. Lincoln is a natural leader, but kind and understanding to those who worked under him, and never totalitarian. He and Monty quickly become friends. 

Because Miller visits so often, Monty and him are always talking. The second week in, Miller invites him to eat their lunches together, which they can manage about three times a week. They quickly become some of Monty’s favorite times. Miller regales him tales of his firm, whether it's idiotic customers or idiotic employees or even his idiotic associates. He tells Monty about things that are stressing him, or the amount of work he's got built up, and occasionally, he and Monty will work out a problem together, arguing it over each other until Miller’s satisfied with a conclusion. 

It becomes a steady routine that Monty enjoys more than he wants to admit. He begins to look forward to any time he can spend with Miller, and his admiration slowly morphs into a crush, which slowly morphs into something deeper. Monty ignores it most days, but he’s struck with it in moments—when he and Miller are arguing out a problem, or when he and Miller are just walking over to lunch together, or when Miller smiles. 

Sometimes he’ll look at Miller and wistfulness will fill him so strongly that it physically aches. Monty knows that he should end his crush on Miller now before he gets hurt, since it’s been months since their conversation in the car. He knows that Miller has probably gotten over him or he won’t want to get back together with him for fear of getting hurt again. Monty understands this, constantly reminds himself, yet he can’t help but feel a sense of loss whenever he remembers that Miller had fallen for him and he’d missed it. Now whenever he looks at Miller, the regret seizes his chest and doesn't let go. 

\--

Three conversations change this routine.

The first comes from Octavia. Monty finds out within the first week that she’s involved with Lincoln, which he’s surprised by. All of his experience with Octavia so far has been that she’s particularly snotty, in the same way Miller was when they first met, but Monty decides to give her a second chance the same way he did Miller. As it turns out, she’s much nicer now than she was before, and Monty wonders if it’s because he’s giving her that second chance or if it’s because she’s around Lincoln. Lincoln has the power to make anyone around him immediately become nicer, but it also may be because Lincoln and Octavia are dating. Monty can’t really be sure.

Since Miller and Octavia are close, Octavia seems to have express permission to be able to sit in on Lincoln working without being called a distraction. Granted, she doesn’t actually do much distracting, and Lincoln obviously mastered the art of working and talking to her at the same time. If anything, Monty’s the one who is distracted by Lincoln and Octavia’s back-and-forth. 

On one of those days, Monty listens to them argue over a better board game (there seems to be no favorite between the two, only that they’re trying to figure out a hierarchy of board games). Miller comes into their office to hand Lincoln some papers, smile warmly at Monty, and then answer Octavia’s question of best board game with, “Clue, obviously.” 

“See?” Lincoln says, as Miller leaves with another smile and eye roll at Monty. “He has taste.”

“Him? Please, Miller dated a white version of Bellamy, we can’t trust him.”

Lincoln can’t answer in his laughter, and Monty uses this time to say, “Why are you guys arguing about this anyway?” He gave Monopoly as his favorite board game, but they both said it was too long and ruined every type of relationship, whether it was romantic, familial, or platonic. 

“Bell and I host game nights,” Octavia says. “And if we can’t make it at night, we usually do some breakfast and board games thing. We always switch out board games.” She pauses and then turns on Monty with a glint in her eye that Monty now knows usually means trouble. “You should come next time!” 

Monty says, “Come to what?”

“Our game nights, of course.”

“They’re really fun,” Lincoln says. “Especially the alcohol-specific game nights. You’ve never truly played Life until you’ve played it drunk.” 

“I—thank you, really,” Monty says. “But I don’t want to intrude.”

“Intrude how?” Octavia asks. “It’s me, Lincoln, Miller, Bellamy, and now Raven. You’re on good terms with everyone, and with you there it’ll make it even if we need to pair up. You and Raven can come together! It works out perfectly.”

Lincoln turns to Monty with a speculative look. “We _could_ finally play team charades with more than two uneven teams.” 

“See? It’s perfect! Monty, you’re coming,” says Octavia.

“Did you guys ever notice how I didn’t actually agree to anything?” Monty says, more than a little amused. 

“You said ‘I don’t want to intrude,’ which implies you wanna come,” Lincoln says. “I’m sure—watch this.” Lincoln pulls out his phone and makes a phone call, putting it on speaker for Monty to hear.

It’s Miller who picks up the phone. “Hey, did the Kane email come in?”

“Not yet, just had a quick question. Would Monty be allowed at game nights?”

“Of course.” 

“And would Bellamy be chill about it?” 

Miller laughs. “Of course. It’s _Monty_ ,” he says, and Monty can feel himself flush even though what Miller said isn’t even that telling. 

Lincoln says, “Thanks for the information,” and gives Monty a smug look when he hangs up. It’s the human expression of _I told you so_. 

“You’re supposed to be the nice one,” Monty says, narrowing his eyes at him.

“That’s the front he uses to hide how much he likes winning,” Octavia says. “Trust me, when you come to game night, you’ll find out.”

“I think I just got swindled,” Monty says. “Not of money, but of, like, my free will.”

Both Lincoln and Octavia just laugh.

\--

Raven says, “I’m so glad you’ve been invited to game nights,” when Monty first tells her, and despite his nerves, it’s just as much fun as everyone promised. 

(Even Miller came up to him at their next lunch and said, with a smile, “So, you’re definitely coming, right?” Monty had laughed immediately, and Miller had said, “You know what I mean, asshole. Game night. You’re definitely on for this weekend, right?”)

It’s almost as if Monty had been going to these the entire time. They pretty much spend the night competing against each other (or now that they can easily pair up, against each team) in whatever games they have—board games, card games, even the occasional video game competition. Lincoln was right in saying that the alcohol nights are the the best—Monty has never played funnier games of Yahtzee in his entire life, nor more dramatic games of _Sorry!_ Once the alcohol kicks in, there seems to be an infinite amount of yelling and laughing. Rules are thrown out or made up. Cheating is abundant. It’s hilarious and embarrassing and just—fun. Pure, plain fun. 

Despite that, Monty’s favorite game times are the breakfast ones. There’s something special about them. Someone always offers to be the home base for the games, and everyone meets up to cook breakfast together and drink coffee and laugh together. Monty likes it because it’s so warm and friendly—cooking with his favorite people, complaining about work and letting the stress off their chests, making each other laugh in the warm morning light. The games get just as heated, but there’s something relaxing about it. 

(Except for one time where they had a breakfast game morning immediately after an alcohol game night—they’d been playing Monopoly and it lasted more than the one night. That had been _intense_ ). 

The morning games were mostly about being goofy and laughing rather than competition, though Monty never doubted their dedication to turning into competitive mode in five seconds. 

Monty is part of the group that turns calmer games into something competitive in five seconds. He knows he’s a major part of the needling, but that's just how he is. Monty doesn't stand down, and so his teasing gets them into many competitive battles. 

In particular—and again, mirroring the past—Monty needles Miller. Monty and Raven tease each other, of course, but it's always about information they have on each other (it's also why he doesn't tease her as much, because she has way too much dirt on him). Monty needles Miller during games, before them, even during the week as they're texting because this time it's just harmless fun.

The second conversations comes out of this. Monty and Miller are in the kitchen, getting seconds while everyone else rests after the last game (Catchphrase). Monty says, “It’s not fair that you and Bellamy were on the same team. You know each other too well.”

Miller shakes his head as he takes a bite of bacon. “You're just upset you lost.”

“I _am_. You two together should be cheating in and of itself.” 

“And you and Raven wouldn't be, how?”

“If Raven and I were together, it’d be more fair.” Monty pauses to take a sip of his coffee, turning lukewarm by the second. “Wait, now that I think about it—you and Bellamy wouldn't have a chance.”

“That sounds like a challenge to me,” Miller says. His voice is low and they're standing closer together now. 

Monty laughs. “I _just_ told you that you wouldn't have a chance. It's not a challenge, it's a fact.” 

Miller’s smile turns into something that's closer to a smirk, and Monty finds it infuriatingly attractive. After a heartbeat, Monty realizes that his natural instinct right now is to kiss Miller, and Miller must realize the same thing because his expression fades into surprise. 

Monty is actually thankful for Bellamy walking in on them, because Monty doesn't know what he would've done next. Bellamy says, with a slow look between them, “We thought you guys got lost.” 

Miller says, “Bellamy, we have a reputation to uphold. What kind of game can we compete against in teams? You and me against Raven and Monty.”

Bellamy raised his eyebrow. “What kind of competition?” Miller explains the conversation he and Monty just had, and Bellamy nods his head sagely. “This can only be settled through charades.” 

“Charades?” Monty repeats. 

“This way we can see who knows each other better,” he says. “Charades is all about connection.”

Miller adds on, “If you and Raven really are a dream team, it shouldn't matter what game you're playing.”

Monty hates how right he is. “Fine,” Monty says. “Charades it is.”

Monty and Raven with three out of five, then six out of ten, and when they start over again, Bellamy and Miller win _that_ three out of five. Octavia asks if she and Lincoln can play, since it is supposed to be all of them, and that gets shut down in a second because _it’s best friends vs. best friends_. 

 

Monty goes back into the kitchen to check on the brownies he’s baking, and Bellamy follows him in a moment later. Monty smiles at him, and Bellamy’s returning smile is a little strained.

“Everything okay?” Monty asks. 

“I wanted to talk to you.” Bellamy moves closer to Monty and lowers his voice. “It’s about Miller.”

Monty feels himself go still, even though his heartbeat pounds faster. “What about him?”

Bellamy glances back at the living room once. “He told me about what happened, uh, all those months ago,” he says. “You know, at that business convention.”

Monty really hopes his face isn’t red. “And?” he says, trying for a brave front.

“And I saw the way you two were just now, in the kitchen. The way you two have been lately.” Bellamy pauses, and Monty nods to show he’s listening. “I just don’t want him to get hurt again,” Bellamy says, and all Monty can do is blink at him. “I know everything leading up to the business convention was messy, but . . . there was only a month and a half between the business convention and Wells’s party. And maybe if you two never interacted again after that, it would’ve ended there. But you two have been around each other ever since, and I just don’t think it was enough time for him to get over you.”

Monty feels pressure squeeze his heart. “You—you still think he lo—he has feelings for me?”

Bellamy’s brows furrow. “I don’t know,” he says. “He hasn’t told me anything. But Raven and I didn’t talk for months and I wasn’t over her.” Bellamy sighs. “Look, I know it’s partially my and Raven’s fault. We’re always together now, and so you and Miller are too. I just want you to be aware of . . . the lines, I guess. I don’t want you to cross any and for him to be the casualty again.”

“If you think,” Monty says, his throat working, “that he was the only one affected by what happened—”

“I know that, too,” Bellamy says, a small smile making its way onto his face. “Give me a little more credit than that. I just see you two together and get worried, you know?” Bellamy scrubs a hand through his hair and offers another small smile. “I just want to help my friend out. I want to protect him.” If the conversation didn’t already make Monty feel like shit, those words almost make his knees give out. He is suddenly very tired. 

“Of course. I understand, Bellamy. I’ll—do what you ask,” Monty says, and Bellamy gives his shoulder a squeeze and leaves the room. 

Monty takes a couple of deep breaths, and when he goes back into the living room, he puts his hand under his thighs so the others don’t notice how much they’re shaking.

\--

Raven stands, clears her throat, and holds out her beer. “I have an announcement to make,” she says, then waits until the noise dies down. “Bellamy and I are officially dating.”

There are cheers around the table—Harper turns on Monroe with “I _told_ you!”—and Raven takes a bow. 

Once the cheers die down, Jasper says, frowning, “Isn’t this the same guy who dumped you with no explanation?”

The mood goes down a little. Raven says, “We’re okay now.” 

“You're sure?”

“Raven,” Monty says, nudging her with his shoulder. “You can tell them everything.” 

Raven nods and launches into the story. It's a lot funnier now that they're on the better side of it, and she leaves out some of the emotional parts. She skips right over Miller’s being in love with Monty, which Monty is grateful for. Monty gives little fillers when he’s asked—mostly his friends are surprised that Monty was _right_ and Miller was the reason Bellamy and Raven broke up all along. Monty smiles when they bring it up, but that feeling of victory is bittersweet. 

Later, when they've broken up between the bar and their booth and the pool table, the third conversation appear with Jasper. He waits until everyone leaves the booth and then says, eyes narrowed, “You knew about everything Raven talked about, didn't you?”

“Yes,” Monty says. He struggles to find a way to explain what happened at the business convention, and just leaves it as, “I found out some information along the way.”

“And you're just—okay with this? With Raven dating that guy?”

“What are you talking about?”

“He completely left her high and dry,” Jasper says. “He abandoned her and you're just gonna let him date her again?”

“ _Let?_ ” Monty repeats incredulously. “ _Me_ let _her_?”

“You were infuriated by all of this before,” Jasper continues, ignoring Monty’s words. “And now you're smiling like it’s a cute story and not fucked up. I don't even know you anymore.” 

Monty feels cold inside, and it reflects in his voice when he says, “Didn't you hear anything Raven said? It's different now.” 

Jasper snorts. “Oh, sure.”

“What does that mean?”

“You're acting like this can't happen again now that they've got their happy ending of whatever. A cheater will cheat again. And this Bellamy guy? I don't trust him.” 

“We just told you it wasn't Bellamy, it was Miller—” 

“Oh, yeah? And Miller just had, what, complete control over Bellamy and forced Bellamy to agree? No. Bellamy could've fought against his friend and didn't. He _agreed_ to drop Raven. He doesn't get to walk away scotch free.”

Monty throws up his hand. “And he didn't! He and Raven talked things out beforehand, it's been _seven_ _months_ of talking about what happened and letting things heal, Jasper.” 

Jasper shakes his head. “You're really laying back and letting this happen,” he says. “All the fight has gone out of you.” 

“You don't know everything that happened, Jasper.”

Jasper laughs. “Obviously! One second you hate Bellamy and Miller for hurting Raven and the next second you don't give a fuck. And not only that, you hang out with Miller. You work for his company—you have weekly lunch dates, for fucks sake. All he had to do was say sorry and suddenly you're in love with the man.” 

Monty feels heat rush his entire body, and before he realizes what he's doing, he's standing. “You're drunk, Jasper,” Monty says, his voice devoid of any emotion. “And I'm not having this conversation with you.” 

“You didn't do anything,” Jasper says. “You could've hurt him in _some_ way, but you did nothing.”

 _I did hurt him_ , Monty thinks, _and without even trying_. “Goodbye, Jasper,” he says instead. He finds Raven at the pool table with Harper and Monroe, kisses her cheek, and says, “I’m going home now.”

Raven frowns. “Why? Are you okay?”

Monty gives her a tight smile. “Jasper’s getting on my nerves, so I’m leaving.”

“Oh, no,” Raven says, tugging on Monty’s jacket. “Stay, stay. Let the person being the asshole leave.” 

“It’s fine. It’s close to my bedtime anyway.” 

Raven laughs. “Alright, go, but text me when you’re back at the apartment.”

Monty promises to do so, and leaves the bar without another glance at the back. 

\--

Lincoln gets the fifth phone call from Miller that day, which is concerning because it’s not even lunch yet. Monty peers at Lincoln in confusion as he listens to Lincoln talk, a small frown tugging on his mouth. When he hangs up with a frustrated sigh, Monty leans forward. “What is it?”

Lincoln leans back in his chair. “You haven’t seen?”

“Seen what?”

“The website.”

Monty furrows his brows. “Uh, no, I’ve been drowning in physical files since you piled them in my lap. Why, what happened?”

Lincoln sighs. “Someone hacked our website, and made pretty much any link you click on a link to a porn site.”

Monty’s mouth drops open, and after a moment he starts laughing. Lincoln lets it happen for a minute or two before Monty says, “Sorry, I’m sorry, but— _porn sites_? Who does that?” 

Lincoln shrugs. “Well, obviously someone else thought it was funny. But if we don’t get this dealt with, and dealt with _now_ , we have to release a statement saying that our site is down, and if any of our clients see this . . .” Lincoln sighs. “It’s somehow the most juvenile thing I’ve ever seen, and yet it completely fucks us.” 

Monty sobers in a second. “Oh,” he says. “We’re a security company and someone _hacked_ —”

“ _Yes_.” 

Monty puts the file in his hands down on the table. “Lincoln, call Miller.”

“What?”

Monty says, “Call Miller, now. I can deal with this.”

Lincoln gives him a bewildered look but follows through, dialing Miller on the office phone and holding it out to Monty. Miller answers with a curt, “Yes?” Monty can already hear the pressure Miller is facing. 

“Nate, it’s me,” Monty says. “I just found out about the hack—I need to come in. Where are the technicians dealing with it?”

There’s a pause. Then Miller says, slowly, “Monty, no.” 

“I told you, I’m the best.”

“I said no.”

“You already pay me. You can add on some more as, I don’t know, overtime, if it’ll make you feel better.” Miller sighs, which Monty takes as a win. Monty continues, “Look, I wasn’t lying. _I’m the best_. And Lincoln already told me how dire the situation is. Let me fix this, I know I can.”

Monty drums his fingers against the desk as Miller goes off the line for a moment, possibly conferring with someone else. Then Miller says, “We already have people tracing the hack. But if you can break the codes, get the site back to normal—”

“I can, I promise—” 

“Then the fifth floor conference room is where you need to go,” Miller says. He sounds strangely breathless when he adds, “Monty—”

“I’ll take it down,” Monty promises. His heart is in his throat. He thinks, _this is Miller’s company, he inherited from his dad, he’ll be destroyed if something happened_. Jasper may have been right about one thing: his feelings are much, much deeper than friendship. “I’m on my way.” 

Miller must have made a call to the other people working on the hack, because they usher him in and set him down at one of the main computers. A woman tells him, “Miller said to give you full control.” 

Something warm shoots through Monty, and he shakes it off. He tells her, “Show me everything you’ve done so far.” 

\--

“Here he is, the man who saved the world,” Harper says, lifting her wine glass to him when Monty enters the kitchen. 

“Ha ha,” he says. He declines Raven’s nonverbal invitation to some wine. When Raven, Harper, and Monroe just laugh at him, he adds, “Seriously, I’ve been getting shit from my coworkers the past two days for ‘saving the company and their jobs and the United States.’” Monty shakes his head. “They should trust me when I say I didn’t do much.” And he hadn’t—the coding had been difficult, Monty supposes, but Monty was a top notch hacker, and the coding had been familiar to him. 

“Miller doesn’t think the same,” Raven says. “He kept going on and on to Bell and I about how amazing you are.”

Monty can feel his cheeks heat up. “Shut up.” He knows he’s being too obvious by the grins Harper and Monroe exchange, but he can’t _help it_. “I keep expecting to walk into, like, a surprise party every time I go into a new room at work. I’m _extremely_ paranoid.” 

“Tell us the whole story,” Harper says. “Was it really porn sites?” 

By the end of the evening, they're all mostly asleep in the living room. Harper and Monroe have fallen asleep on each other on the couch, while Raven and Monty occupy the floor. He and Raven stay up reminiscing about high school, munching on the leftover crackers, until they fall asleep near two in the morning. 

Raven’s phone wakes them up, sometime around ten. Harper and Monroe are still on the couch, the noise disturbing them in their sleep, and Raven answers the phone with a huffy, “Yeah?”

Her tired expression goes to shock. She says, “Wait, _what_?” She gives Monty a panicked look, which prompts him to ask, “What, what is it?”

Raven pulls her mouth away from the receiver. “Jasper’s in jail.”

“ _What?_ ”

Raven shakes her head at him, saying into the phone, “Okay, Maya, take a deep breath. I can't understand you.” She listens for a few moments, and something makes her give Monty another stricken look. “Oh, fuck.”

Monty shakes her shoulder. “Raven, what? What is it?”

Harper and Monroe have woken up. Harper says, “Guys? What's wrong?”

Raven pulls her mouth away from the receiver again. Her expression is full of regret when she tells Monty, “Jasper was arrested for hacking into Alpha International.”

Monty feels his stomach bottom out. “No.” 

Raven says, “I’m sorry. Maya says they took him this morning.” 

“ _No_ ,” Month repeats, and then he pushes himself up to find his phone. 

He finds it on the kitchen counter, the battery at 47%. He calls Jasper first, hoping he’ll pick up, but it rings and rings and goes to voicemail. He has two missed calls from Maya and a voicemail from Miller. Monty opens up the voicemail with shaking fingers. 

Miller’s voice is tense when he says, “Monty, fuck. Answer your phone. I just got the phone call this morning. Jasper . . . Jasper has been arrested for the hack on my company—I didn't know about it until now, and the arrest already went through. Just . . .” He makes a frustrated noise. “I’m sorry. We’ll figure this out.”

Monty hurries back into the living room, to see Raven shrugging on a sweater and Harper and Monroe putting on their shoes. 

“We’re going to pick up Maya,” Raven says to him. Monty nods, a numb sensation spreading over him. _This can’t be happening_ , he thinks. Raven sends him concerned looks as she drives over to Maya’s, but Monty ignores those and focuses on calming himself down.

Maya’s eyes are red but clear of tears when she gets inside.

“What happened?” Raven says.

“They came this morning,” Maya says. “Said they were arresting him for the hack on Miller’s company.” She gently touched Monty’s shoulder. “You didn’t know anything about this, did you?”

“No,” Monty says. “I just fixed the hack on the site. I didn’t track it.”

Maya’s voice quivers as she speaks. “Why? Why would he be so stupid?”

Monty glances over at Raven, who’s frowning, a sure sign that she doesn’t know, and then back at Maya, whose expression is distraught. Monty takes a deep breath.

“He did it because of me,” Monty says. 

Maya says, “What? How?”

Raven’s grip on the steering wheel gets tighter. “Tell me he didn’t do it to implicate _you_ did. To make you get fired.”

“No.” Monty chews his bottom lip, then sighs. “He’s still angry about what Miller did to Raven. And he’s mad that I just . . . supposedly _accepted_ it,” Monty says bitterly. “He wanted to take some kind of revenge against Miller, and this was his idea on how to do it.” 

“It was _stupid_ ,” Maya says fiercely. 

“It would’ve been effective, if I hadn’t been there,” Monty says, “but yes, it was stupid.” 

The rest of the drive is quiet except for random outbursts from Maya about how dumb Jasper was acting, and after parking, they rush into the precinct. Raven and Monty offer to wait for her in the common area while an officer leads her to Jasper.

Monty focuses on his breathing while they sit in silence, suddenly aware of how tired he is, and then Raven says, “Did he really do it because of me and Bellamy?”

Monty startles a little and meets her eyes. Her eyebrows are pulled together and a slight frown tugs at her lips. 

“No,” Monty says, “it wasn’t because of you and Bellamy. It was because I didn’t do anything about you two getting back together. I was hypocritical, in his eyes, because I kept criticizing them and hating them and then suddenly I was okay with you dating Bellamy.” Monty pauses. “He especially didn’t approve of my relationship with Nate.” 

Raven shakes her head. “Monty, you can’t take this to heart,” she says. “He didn’t know everything. He didn’t know about Miller’s feelings for you and everything you two have gone through since then.”

“I know,” Monty says. “And that’s—don’t you get it? That’s my fault. I didn’t want him judging me for it, so I didn’t tell him. And if I’d just _told_ him, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Monty, you can’t think like that,” Raven says, and then sighs, frustrated. She’s quiet for a moment before asking, “Why would he judge you for Miller’s feelings? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Monty looks away for a moment and rubs his hand over his mouth. He doesn’t look at Raven when he says, “He accused me of having feelings for Miller and . . .” Monty lets out a breath. “He’s not wrong.” 

Raven puts her hand on Monty’s arm, gentle and reassuring. “Look, even if you did tell him, do you think he would’ve accepted it? Or would he still have been mad?” She nudges him a little. “Either way, this was all Jasper’s decision. You can’t get stuck on _what ifs_. Right now we just need to focus on whatever we can do to make this situation better.”

Monty nods his head, giving her a faint smile in an attempt to reassure her, and says, “As long as you don’t beat yourself up about it either.”

Raven smiles and takes his hand. “I won’t.”

They sit there in silence for a little while longer, waiting for Maya or anyone to tell them news. When someone does come, it’s not who either of them are expecting: Miller walks into the room, and when he sees them, he makes his way over.

Monty gives Raven a quick look, and she says defensively, “I didn’t call him,” so Monty stands to meet him. 

Monty says, “Hey, what are you doing here?” which doesn’t come out the kindest, but he’s stressed, so it’s understandable.

Miller shifts uncomfortably, glancing around the room. “I wanted to be here,” he says. “I—when they began tracking the source, I gave them permission to arrest whoever was found. If I had known it would’ve been Jasper, I would’ve tried to stop it—”

“Nate, it’s fine,” Monty interrupts. He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “This is messier than you think. More complicated than that. I’m—I’m sorry. About everything that’s happened.”

Miller frowns. “Why are you apologizing? You haven’t done anything.”

“It’s called apologizing on behalf of your friend,” Monty says with a small smile. “I would’ve stopped it, if I’d known.”

“Don’t think like that,” Miller says, an echo of what Raven said to Monty minutes before. “What can I do to help?”

Monty startles. “Nothing,” he says. “Miller—nothing. That’s not your responsibility.” 

Miller smiles. “Monty, I let you apologize for a friend. I want to help my friend as well.” 

“Jasper is not your friend.”

“Well, no, apparently not,” Miller says, laughing a little. “He _hacked_ my company. And I have a feeling he didn’t hack it because he disagrees with what we do there.” Miller’s eyes glance just once at Raven before returning to Monty. 

What Monty really wants to do is collapse into Miller’s arms and let Miller hold him for ages, or at least until Monty begins to feel slightly better. Instead he says, “Thank you for being here, Nate. But . . . I think we’ve got it handled. We’ll be fine.” Miller’s nod is understanding, and Monty wishes more than anything that they didn’t have to be in this situation. Monty puts his hand on Miller’s arm and says, “Seriously, Nate. Go home and deal with the company.”

“Alright. If that’s what you want.” Miller grips the hand Monty put on his shoulder, squeezing in reassurance. “I’m here if you need me, alright?” 

“Alright.” Monty gives him one last smile and watches Miller turn back down the hall and leave. Monty exhales a long breath and returns to Raven in the waiting area. He drops down on the seat and closes his eyes. When Raven puts her head on his shoulder, he curls into her and tries to take comfort in her warmth.

\--

Monty would like to say that he yelled at Jasper the second his bail was paid for—apparently Maya had gotten money from Jasper’s parents that Monty’s friend group hadn’t already pulled together—but Monty actually just sat back and listened as Maya yelled at Jasper. He and Raven had dropped the two of them off at their apartment and then fell asleep as soon as they were back home.

Now Monty braces himself as he walks up to Lincoln’s office, the paper in his hand probably wrinkled from his tight grip. Monty lets out a long breath after knocking on the door, and Lincoln calls to come in a moment later.

Lincoln’s office is neat as usual, and Monty hovers awkwardly by one of the chairs as Lincoln greets him. Monty wants to leave as soon as possible; he doesn’t really think this is a sit-down conversation.

Lincoln says, “Hey, I was just looking over those reports you sent me this last weekend.” He considers Monty a moment. “Is everything okay?”

Monty puts the paper on Lincoln’s desk, pressing it so that it’s flattened. He knows that Lincoln’s read it after he pulls his hand away, or has at least scanned it enough to know what it is, but Monty says, “It’s my resignation letter,” anyway. 

Lincoln blinks at the paper and then up at Monty. “What?”

“I’m resigning.”

“Yes, I got that—but why?”

“This was never permanent,” Monty says. “Look, I loved being here. But this was supposed to be temporary while I interviewed with other people. I’ve been getting responses back, so I think it’s time I resigned.”

Lincoln sighs. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay here with me? I’d love for you to stay. We’d change your position, of course, put you on a more permanent place in my team—”

“Lincoln, it’s okay,” Monty says with a small laugh. “I’ve loved working here, seriously, but it’s time I went for what I was working for. I’m ready.” 

Lincoln says, “Alright, but you have to promise to keep coming to stuff I invite you to. We’re friends before we’re colleagues. Or ex-colleagues, whatever.”

Monty laughs and half-turns his body to leave. “Thanks, Lincoln. And trust me, I’m already planning on seeing you next weekend for game night.”

As Monty’s about to reach the door, Lincoln says, “Are you sure this has nothing to do with Miller?”

Monty stops before he’s even opened the door. He turns to Lincoln. “What about him?”

“I just wanted to be sure that you aren’t resigning because you feel uncomfortable due to him,” Lincoln says, and for one second Monty thinks he’s going to get some office relationships talk or something, but Lincoln continues, “since he convinced the board to drop some of Jasper’s charges. A lot happened these past three days, but I wouldn’t want that to think you aren’t welcome here.”

Monty is pretty sure he’s gaping at Lincoln in an extremely unattractive manner. “No,” he finally manages to say. “No, Lincoln, I swear that it has nothing to do with that.”

“Alright,” Lincoln says, smiling. “Then I wish you the best in your future career.” 

Monty smiles back and thanks him before leaving Lincoln’s office for the last time.

When he gets home Raven decides that they should celebrate, even if he’s no longer employed. Her version of relaxation is buying gelato and eating it while they relax on the couch, but it’s nice for them to catch up and get stresses off their backs. Monty tells her about the interview he has with Wells’s company coming up, and Raven tells him that she and Bellamy are working out well. 

At around seven, right after they’ve ordered some pizza for dinner to continue their celebration, Monty’s phone rings. Raven removes her feet from his lap so that he can pick it up, and from his pause, she says, “Who is it?”

“It’s Nate,” Monty says, and then shushes her when she makes fun of him saying _Nate_. “Raven, seriously, I’m answering—Hey, Nate! What’s up?”

Miller’s voice is concerned when he says, “Hey. I . . . is it true that you resigned?”

Monty glances at Raven and decides to move into the kitchen. “Yeah, I did. Today, actually.”

Miller is quiet for a moment. “Was . . . was everything okay? I mean, nothing happened, right?”

“No, Nate, it’s nothing. Nothing happened.”

“Then because of Jasper? I . . . I told you not to feel guilty about that—”

“No, it wasn’t because of Jasper. And before you ask, no, it wasn’t because of what you did either, I just needed to quit before the rest of these interviews. You even knew when you hired me that it wasn’t going to be permanent.”

Miller’s quiet for a moment, and then he says, “You know about what I did?”

“Yeah, Lincoln told me.”

“And you . . . you want things to remain the same?”

Monty frowns, leaning against the counter as he tries to figure out what that means. Miller got some of the charges dropped—what’s bad about that? Monty doesn't want Jasper’s actions to risk their friendship. “Why wouldn’t I want things to remain the same?” Monty asks. “I know we won’t see each other as much anymore because we won’t be able to have lunch together, but we’re still friends.” Monty pauses. “I mean, that’s . . . nothing’s changed on your end, has it?”

“No,” Miller quickly says. “No, I . . . I just wanted to be sure. Still friends, then. Okay.” There’s a strange noise on the other end that Monty thinks could be a laugh, but it sounds too strangled for that. “I’ll make sure to give Wells my glowing recommendation.”

Monty feels his cheeks heat. “You know, when Wells first told me that . . . I was angry that it was you, of all people. Now I can’t think of anyone else’s word I’d rather have.”

Miller’s voice is filled with warmth when he says, “I’m glad for that. I hope your future career goes well, Monty. I’ll see you this weekend, right?”

“Of course. See you soon, Nate,” Monty says. When the line goes dead, Monty stares at the phone for a second or so and tries to figure out why that conversation was a little unsettling.

Raven notices this, too, it seems, because when he sits back down on the couch, she asks, “Is everything okay?”

“I’m pretty sure,” Monty says, and lets Raven put her feet back in his lap. 

\--

Monty’s interview with Wells goes extremely well—pun fully intended—and when Wells calls a week later to tell Monty he’s got the job, Monty’s friends decide they should go out and celebrate.

Raven lifts her beer in the air and says, a tad melodramatic, “It’s been a good year so far for all of us. Monty and Monroe have successfully gotten jobs from that business convention that is supposed to give them a lot of money—”

“Thank god,” Monroe says. 

“—and from which I hope to personally benefit, if my dearest roommate deems fit,” Raven continues. 

“If you want benefits you’ll have to lay it on thick,” Monty says, laughing. “Don’t half-ass it.”

Raven lifts an eyebrow. “I have a _boyfriend_ , Green.” Everyone laughs at that; even Raven’s lips twitch a little. “Speaking of which, that’s my new good thing of this year, my very own Bellamy Blake.”

“Took some effort, too,” Monty adds.

“The point is,” Raven continues, a little louder than before, “is that I’m very happy. And let’s not forget that Maya is graduating in two months. A toast to that. And Harper came out to her parents successfully and we are proud of her no matter what the outcome would’ve been.”

“I’m pretty sure everyone in this bar now knows, too,” Harper says dryly.

“What about me?” Jasper asks.

“You didn’t go to jail,” Raven says, and the table erupts into laughter.

“I can drink to that,” Maya says, and everyone chugs whatever drink they have. The conversations around the table pick up immediately, with everyone telling funny stories and catching up. Monty nudges Jasper when Jasper is quiet.

“It’s not like you to be quiet,” Monty says.

Jasper rolls his eyes. “I’m just not happy about my accomplishment being _not going to jail_.” He drinks his beer. “Man, if you’d been there next to me in the cell . . . it would’ve been like high school.”

“Well, thank god that didn’t happen,” Monty says, “or I would’ve been fired. I mean, I resigned, but that would’ve looked bad for future employers.”

Jasper snorts. “Right. Couldn’t have you disappointing _Nate_.” 

Monty sighs and stares at the table for a moment. “Are we really doing this right now?” 

Jasper shakes his head. “Nah. Besides, after everything that’s happened, I changed my mind about him. Somewhat.”

Monty tilts his head, confused. The only thing Miller has done is get some charges dropped, but Monty has no idea how Jasper knows about it. “Are you talking about the charges?”

“The charges _and_ the bail,” Jasper says, like Monty’s an idiot. 

Monty tightens his grip around his beer. “The bail? What the fuck does that mean?”

Now Jasper is definitely looking at Monty like Monty’s an idiot. “Miller is the one who paid off my bail,” Jasper says. “Who did you think it was?”

“Maya told me it was your parents,” Monty says, his mind whirling. _Miller paid off Jasper’s bail?_ _But why would he—_

Jasper laughs. “My parents? I’m sure they would’ve said to leave me in there to teach me a lesson.” He peers at Monty. “Dude, you okay?”

“I need a moment,” Monty says, standing from the table and walking to the bar. He waves off the bartender’s offer for another beer—Monty’s pretty sure that more alcohol will only confuse him more—but he takes a moment to breathe away from the noise of his friends. 

A hand touches his back, and then Maya’s voice says, “Monty, you okay?” She leans against the bar next to him and searches his face. “Jasper sent me over, said you were upset because you found out . . .”

“So it’s true?” Monty asks.

Maya nods. “Yes. It’s true. Miller got them to shed some charges, but we still couldn’t pay the amount needed, so Miller covered it.”

“You told me—”

“I know,” she interrupts, an apologetic smile on her face. “Miller made me promise not to tell you. He said you’d be upset that he’d done too much to help and I went along with it because he’d helped Jasper and it only seemed right to promise him this in return and—”

“Maya, Maya,” Monty says gently. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you—it didn’t even cross my mind. I just . . .” Monty shakes his head. “I owe Nate more than I realize.”

“I think that’s why he kept it hidden,” she says. “So that you wouldn’t have to owe him anything.” She puts one arm around his shoulder in a half-hug. “Do you want my unasked for advice?”

Monty laughs. “Of course.”

“Talk to him,” Maya says. Her voice is soft and kind, her eyes gentle. It’s easy to take life-changing advice from her, Monty thinks. “About everything, including you finding out about him paying the bail off. Including your feelings. _Everything_. I promise you he feels the same way.” 

Monty groans. “I don’t know, Maya. We’re not really the sit down and talk type, we’re more of a . . . sit in a car and argue until we yell our feelings at each other type.” 

Maya laughs in a way that means she thought Monty was making a joke and not telling the truth. “Then do that,” she says. “As long as you get it out now. You don’t want this to pass over and miss out, Monty.” She squeezes Monty’s shoulders and then asks, “Are you good? Yeah? Then let’s return to the table. Everyone was a little concerned.”

Monty nods, smiles, and follows Maya back to his friends. He doesn’t continue drinking, but he traces the rim of his beer as he thinks about everything Maya said. 

\--

The call comes around one in the morning, after Monty has put Raven to sleep with a large glass of water. It seems like he’d just fallen asleep when the house phone ringing wakes him up. Monty ignores it the first time around, but it starts ringing a minute later, and Monty groans. 

He pushes himself out of bed to the kitchen, and Raven enters a moment after him. 

“Who the fuck is calling this late? I’m still way too drunk to deal with this,” Raven says, and Monty shrugs. “Maybe it’s finally over,” she adds hopefully.

Apparently not. The phone rings a moment later, and Monty picks it up after he and Raven share a look and Raven motions for him to answer it.

“Hello?” Monty asks.

The woman’s voice on the other end is cold and brisk and strangely familiar. “Is this Monty Green?” 

“Yes, this is he.” Raven nudges him, and he shrugs. “Who is this?”

The woman sniffs. “It’s Abby Griffin, from The Griffin Company. I’m calling to inquire after a nasty rumor that I heard this evening.”

“Are you kidding me?” Monty says, bewildered. He writes Abby Griffin on one of their bills left on the kitchen counter so Raven can read it, and she looks just as incredulous as he feels. “It’s one in the morning. Can’t this wait—”

“What I _heard_ ,” Abby says, as if Monty hadn’t spoken at all, “is that Wells Jaha had offered the open position of the head of his media department to you, Mister Green, and not to my daughter Clarke, despite the fact that Wells and my daughter have a history together—”

“ _History_ doesn’t mean _best qualified_ ,” Monty says. “Shouldn’t you complain about this to Wells and not me?”

“I already talked to Wells,” Abby replies, her tone disdainful. “He has no care for family friends or what legacy means. His father and I have talked for years, you know, about our companies having some type of allyship and he overthrows all these hard years for someone like you.”

“I’m more qualified than your daughter is, and one of those qualifications is that I actually _want_ the job,” Monty says, and then shakes his head. “This is fucking ridiculous. It’s one A.M. I don’t know why I’m even talking to you.” 

“Mister Green, I won’t be spoken to like that,” Abby says, and Monty almost laughs. Raven nudges him, asking him what’s happening, and he doesn’t even know what to say. “The disrespect I’ve received from both you and Wells Jaha is unacceptable. If you don’t refuse the job—”

“ _What_?” 

“—then I will have no choice but to raise further questions about this situation. I don’t care if Wells has the support of Nathan Miller behind him, because Nathan Miller has also proved to have a distaste for previous relationships—though his entanglement with you, of course, probably influenced his recommendation.” 

“You talked to Nate—to Miller?” Monty asks. Raven slaps his shoulder more, but he just brushes her off. 

“I called him after I talked to Wells,” Abby informs him coolly, “to persuade him to rescind his recommendation for you. He refused me quite angrily, and told me that if I attempted to challenge Wells that he would support him—and you—fully. He made the relationship between you two _very_ clear—”

Monty sends Raven a panicked look, to which she demands, “What’s happening?” to which Monty pulls his mouth away from the receiver to say, “I have no fucking idea.”

Finally Monty interrupts Abby speaking (because yes, she’s still going off). “Mrs. Griffin, you’ve called me at one in the morning for fucking nothing,” he says. “I’m not going to refuse the job, and Wells and Nate will support me against anything you try to do, and if this continues to bother you, then next time, please choke it down rather than call me again. Goodbye.”

Monty hangs up and slams the phone down on the table. Raven is gaping at him, though she’s smiling. “Holy shit,” she says. “I only heard half of that conversation and I can’t believe you just said that to her.”

“Neither can I,” Monty says, and nervously looks down at the phone. “Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have. Do you think I’ll get in trouble?”

“For what? A job you haven’t started yet?” Raven nudges him again. “Besides, you just said Wells and Miller would support you.”

“Yeah, but I said it only because _she_ said it. I have no idea what she’s talking about.”

“Okay, okay. Tell me what just happened and then we can interpret it together.”

Monty has just finished telling Raven the conversation when the phone rings again, but this time it’s Monty’s cellphone. He and Raven share a look, and Monty says, “I honestly have no idea who that is.”

Raven shrugs. “Alright, well, I’m still a bit too drunk for this. I’m gonna head to bed, and you deal with all of this.”

Monty heads to his room and finds his phone, lit up and ringing from the phone call. When he’s close enough he sees that the name on the screen is _Nathan Miller_ , and that Monty has three text messages from Miller that all basically warn him about Abby Griffin. Monty cycles through about five questions before he finally decides to answer the phone.

“Monty,” Miller breathes, and Monty almost swoons on the spot just hearing that. “Look, I’m sorry it’s so late, but Abby Griffin is on a rampage—”

“I know,” Monty says. “I just got off the phone with her.”

“Fuck,” Miller says, and Monty huffs out a little laugh. “I’m sorry. Was she . . . was she horrible?”

“Yes. And I think I sufficiently told her off, but it might get me in some trouble.”

“Good. I mean, not that you’d get in trouble, but that you told her off. I just got off the phone with Wells, talking about measures we might take—anyway, I wanted to warn you, but I guess she got here first.” Miller exhales. “She wasn’t too rough, was she?”

“She asked me to refuse the job and threatened to investigate into it,” Monty says, and Miller laughs.

“That’s just about what she said to us, minus refusing the job.”

“Yeah, she mentioned that she called you.” Monty plays with his comforter, trying to decide if he should say his next words. With Maya’s advice in mind, he says, “She also, uh, knew about us.”

Miller is quiet for a moment. “What does that mean?”

“I mean she said . . . She said you made our relationship status ‘ _very clear_ ’ to her. So really she made assumptions, but I didn’t know if you said anything—”

“I didn’t explicitly say it,” Miller says, rushed and slightly concerned. “I think I may have defended you, uh, quite a lot. And fiercely. And she may have taken her own assumptions based off of that, but—” Miller coughs. “I never said we were dating or anything.”

“Oh. Okay. I didn’t think you said anything, but I figured you might want to know about that in case she . . . brings it up.” Monty closes his eyes. “Nate, I know about the bail.”

“The—what?”

“The bail. I know that you paid it off.”

Miller says slowly, “Monty, you didn’t know before?”

“No, I only found out tonight. Or—yesterday. Whatever. I found out in the last seven hours.” Monty continues with his comforter playing, smoothing it over with his hand and then crumpling it up again. 

“But you said—Monty, you said you knew everything.” Miller lets out a strange laugh. “You said you knew what I did and you wanted things to remain the same.”

“I only found out that you got charges dropped,” Monty explains, his grip tightening on the phone. “I didn’t know you paid the bail, or I . . .” Monty takes a deep breath and makes himself continue. “I wouldn’t have said that I wanted things to remain the same, because I didn’t. I _don’t_. I don’t want to be just friends anymore.” 

“I thought you knew everything I did and didn’t want a relationship,” Miller says breathlessly. “When you said you wanted things to _remain the same_ —”

“I know.” Monty laughs. “But I was scared that things would change after everything Jasper did, so I wanted to make sure we weren’t losing our friendship.”

“Monty, you must know—you have to know it was all for you,” Miller says. Monty’s chest fucking _aches_ at those words, and he wants nothing more than to have this conversation with Miller face to face. “Everything with Jasper. Everything with Raven—I mean, I did it because I thought it was right. But that was because of you. It was all because of you.” 

“ _Nate_ , I—” Monty starts, but he finds he has nothing left to say. Miller fills that space for him.

“I know I promised I wouldn’t bring this up again,” Miller says. “But I also promised myself I wouldn’t have feelings for you anymore, and I wouldn’t have hope for an us anymore, and that obviously didn’t happen.” He laughs softly. “My feelings since last spring haven’t changed at all. And if yours haven’t changed either, then I really will forget everything and never mention it again. But if they have—if things have changed—”

Monty almost couldn’t bear to keep quiet anymore. “It has,” he cut in. It felt like he was barely breathing. “Nate, it has. I’ve—I’ve done a complete one-eighty. _Complete_.” Monty presses his lips together. He’s scared, so scared he doesn’t want to say it, but he remembers Miller saying _most ardently_ in the car and he braves through it. “Nate, I’m in love with you,” he says. 

Miller is quiet for so long that Monty has to check his phone to make sure he didn’t hang up. When Monty prompts him by saying his name, Miller finally says, “Monty, I know it’s one-thirty in the morning and tonight has been absolutely hectic, but . . . can I come see you?”

“Right now?”

Miller laughs. “Yes, right now, right now. Google Maps says it only takes about twenty-five minutes. I just— _God_ —I just need to see you right now,” Miller says. “I won’t be sleeping tonight anyway, not after what you just told me, so the drive won’t matter to me.”

“Then come,” Monty says, and even the sigh of relief Miller exhales sends Monty’s heart skyrocketing. “Hurry. I want to see you so badly.” 

“Okay, okay.” There’s a rushing noise in Monty’s ear that he takes as Miller moving. “Fuck, this can’t be real. Okay. I’ll be there in twenty-five. Don’t fall asleep.”

“I won’t,” Monty promises, and when the phone call ends he stares at the ceiling in absolute disbelief. Then he stares at his phone for a minute, replaying the entire phone conversation in his head, and slides out of bed. He paces, because he’s both anxious about Miller arriving and scared of falling asleep when Miller arrives. It’s the longest twenty-five minutes he’s ever dealt with. He’s itching to hear Miller’s voice again, and he almost calls Miller twice, just to hear his voice as he drives. Monty wonders if Miller’s feeling the same way about him, and then remembers Miller saying _My feelings since last spring haven’t changed at all_. It makes him get a glass of water to drink because his throat is suddenly dry. 

The clock tells him it’s just passed two when there’s a light knock on his door. Monty practically pounces on the door to open it, so nervous he fumbles with the lock, and swings open the door to face Miller.

Miller is breathing so hard Monty can see it. “You didn’t even check to see if it was me,” Miller says.

All Monty can say is, “Nate,” and he’s too frozen to reach for Miller, but then Miller raises his hand to lightly touch Monty’s cheek. 

Monty presses his cheek into Miller’s touch and Miller’s mouth parts a little. Monty holds Miller’s gaze as he reaches for Miller’s other hand and leads him inside enough that they can close the door. Miller thumb strokes slightly over Monty’s cheekbone, and Monty presses Miller’s other hand to his cheek as well. Their temperature makes him shiver.

“Your hands are cold,” Monty says, and Miller’s mouth breaks into a smile, though it’s still full of wonder. Monty would let Miller look his fill, but Monty is too impatient; he brings his hands up to Miller’s face and draws him down for a kiss.

The kiss is soft and hesitant, which Monty appreciates because it’s what neither of them started out as. The first kiss is short, only because Miller pulls away to say, “Fuck,” but it leads easily into the next one. Miller’s fingers are cold on Monty’s cheek but his mouth is warm, the rare touches of his tongue electrifying, so Monty just hooks his arms around Miller’s neck and pulls him closer. Monty finds himself pushed against the counter by Miller’s hips, his waist bracketed by Miller’s arms, and the kiss deepened by Miller’s lush mouth.

At some point Miller pulls away, but he only scatters kisses across Monty’s cheeks and forehead and (when Monty begins speaking) against his neck.

“Do you remember what you said at that party?” Monty asks, his voice coming out breathless from Miller’s mouth on his jaw.

“Which one?” Miller mumbles.

“The first one,” Monty says, and then has to stop and clutch harder at Miller’s neck and shoulder when Miller puts his mouth to Monty’s pulse. Monty closes his eyes against the feeling and lets himself slump a little in Miller’s arms. “What you said to Octavia.”

Miller’s hands have found their way under Monty’s shirt, but only just to hold his hips. “No, why?”

“You said—you said I wasn’t handsome enough to tempt you.”

Miller pauses his path down Monty’s neck and pulls away, his gaze searching and his brow furrowed. “You can’t possibly think I still believe that.” 

“No, no, I just think it’s funny. Don’t you? That we started out so . . . and here we are.”

“Making out in your kitchen at two in the morning?” Miller sweeps his hands up and down Monty’s sides soothingly. His expression is serious when he says, “Monty, I may have said that that night, but trust me, the next day my thoughts were the opposite. I . . . I admired you greatly. Everything about you.”

Monty cradles Miller’s face in his hands. “I believe you,” he whispers, kissing Miller softly on the mouth. “I thought this could never happen,” he says into the small space between their mouths. “I thought you would never want to be with me after what happened at the business convention. That you would never let yourself be open to me again.”

Miller brushes his nose against Monty’s. “Me? I had to force myself not to believe that this could happen, because I knew I hadn’t gotten over you and we’d promised to be friends. I kept hoping that I was interpreting your feelings correctly and Bellamy was trying to warn me off and—” He kisses Monty like he can’t help himself, like even talking about them possibly not happening is making him worried. “I still think I’m dreaming.”

“You’re not,” Monty says. He touches his thumb to Miller’s lip in awe. “And if you are, I’ll march over to your house when I wake up and just do this all over again.” Miller laughs, and Monty kisses him just to see what his laugh tastes like. “I love your laugh,” he says between kisses, and Miller groans. “I love kissing you. I love that you drove twenty-five minutes to be here.” Miller rests his forehead against Monty’s with a breathless smile, and Monty says, “I love you.”

Miller’s grin is wide and fierce. “I never thought I’d hear you say that,” he says. “I love you too.”

Monty kisses him again, short and sweet. “Most ardently,” he says.

Miller laughs, his hands smoothing down Monty’s sides again. “Yes, most ardently.” 

Monty steals another kiss before leading Miller down to Monty’s room, where they collapse on the bed in a tangle of limbs and kisses and laughter. Monty thinks that he’s never going to sleep again, that he’ll spend eternity kissing Miller, but once he lies in Miller’s arms, sleep claims him. 

\--

Monty wakes up with Miller pressed against his back, and it takes him a moment to realize that he woke up because Miller is pressing kisses to the back of his neck.

Miller must realize that Monty is awake when Monty shifts, and he kisses Monty’s neck again. “You sleep too much,” he says.

“We were up past two last night,” Monty says into the pillow. “I’m allowed to sleep in.”

Miller presses his face into Monty’s hair, nuzzling at a certain spot. “I’ll just keep bothering you, you know I will. We can make coffee.”

“You don’t even know if we have coffee.”

“I already smelled Raven making some.”

Monty groans and presses back further against Miller’s body. “Too warm and comfortable. Let’s just stay here.”

Miller raises himself up on one arm and leans over to kiss Monty on the corner of his mouth. “Up. I’ll make food, but you can only have some if you get up now.”

Monty lets out another groan, but when Miller takes Monty’s hands, Monty lets himself be pulled off the bed. Miller kisses him on the cheek with a smile, says, “Don’t fall back asleep,” and heads to the kitchen. Monty would probably have fallen back asleep, as he immediately sits back down on the bed, if not for Raven’s shriek and a small crash.

Monty skids into the kitchen to make sure everything’s okay and finds Raven and Miller laughing together as they clean up Raven’s broken mug pieces off the floor. They glance at Monty when he enters the room, but Raven stands to leave Miller cleaning. She cocks her head and puts her hands on her hips. 

“You really couldn’t tell me that he was here?” she asks. “Not even a text message or a note?”

Miller finishes picking up all the shards and throws them in the trashcan. “She just about had a heart attack when she saw me,” he explains. “She dropped her coffee mug.”

“Thank fuck it wasn’t my favorite one,” Raven says, getting another mug out of the cupboard. 

“Or filled with coffee,” Miller says, and Raven nods in agreement. 

“But seriously,” Raven says. “A little warning next time? I mean, I’m glad he came over to cook breakfast, I’ll gladly eat that, but the heart attack can be left behind.”

Miller makes a face and turns to the fridge to pull out breakfast ingredients. Monty is jealous that Miller can hide his face, because Raven takes one look at Monty wrinkling his nose and says, “Wait, what happened?”

“Nate, uh, actually came over last night,” Monty says.

Raven says, “Last night? After I’d gone to bed? It was already one in the morning.” She sips at her coffee. “And Monty, you didn’t even set up the couch last night. I passed it on the way here and it was— _oh_. Oh my god.”

Monty tries not to laugh, but once Miller looks his way, he can’t help it. He rests his head in his arms, slumped over the counter, so that she can’t see how red his face is.

“You two are together! You got together! Monty, what the fuck? I went to bed at one and you decide to get a boyfriend after that?”

“In my defense, it wasn’t planned at all,” Monty says. “It just happened.” 

“Wow. Last night was really wild for you,” Raven says.

“You have no idea.”

Miller interrupts with, “Raven, you like pancakes, don’t you?”

“Um, fuck yes. Monty, he’s allowed to stay over as many times as he likes if he makes breakfast,” Raven says, then, “I’ll leave you two . . . to it.”

“Like Bellamy ever does anything!” Monty calls after her. When he’s sure she’s disappeared around the corner of the hallway, he wraps his arms around Miller’s waist. Miller pauses his batter-making for a moment and turns around to face Monty, a smile on his face. 

“She’s probably telling Bellamy right now,” he says, his hands resting lightly on Monty’s waist. 

Monty brushes his mouth against Miller’s. “I don’t care,” he says. He thinks about Maya saying _I promise you he feels the same way_. “Everyone pretty much knows already.” 

Miller nods. “That’s definitely true.” He laughs. “I mean, my dad already wants to meet you.”

When Miller doesn’t elaborate, Monty pokes him in the chest. “Nate, you need to explain that further. What the fuck does that mean?”

“Jesus, don’t freak out, okay?” Miller pulls Monty closer. “My father already knew about you because I told him I had feelings for someone before . . . you know. And then you started working for me, and we became friends, and my dad wanted to meet you.” Miller nudges Monty a little. “Besides, if he didn’t want to meet you before all that, he definitely wanted to meet you after the Jasper hack. He said he wanted to meet his company’s superhero, or something like that.” 

Monty can feel himself flush. He focuses his eyes on Miller’s collarbone, partly visible underneath his soft t-shirt. “I mean . . . if you’re serious, I’m not against meeting him. If that’s not too fast. Or weird. Whatever.”

The feeling of Miller’s mouth on the side of his neck makes his fingers clench in Miller’s shirt. “I don’t think we’ve done any of this relationship business normally,” Miller says in Monty’s ear, and Monty shivers and presses closer. “So of course you can meet him.” 

Monty is about to tell Miller to forget breakfast and pull him back into Monty’s bedroom, but Miller pushes Monty away to work on the batter again. Monty can see the smirk on Miller’s face when Monty leans against the counter, and says, “Oh my god, you tease!” Miller shoots him a smile. “Don’t think I won’t get revenge for that.”

Miller says, “Maybe I’m counting on that,” and Monty has never wanted to kiss someone as much as he does in that moment. He almost does, but doesn’t want to give Miller the satisfaction.

While Miller works on the pancakes, Monty finds a snapchat from Raven on his phone. When he opens it up, it’s a picture of him and Miller standing as they were in the kitchen a minute ago, face to face and completely absorbed in each other. Her caption says, “they finally got their shit together” with a bunch of heart emojis. 

Monty flushes, knowing that she probably sent it to all of their friends, and yells, “ _Raven!_ ” 

\--

Miller leans close to Monty’s ear and murmurs, “Hey, take it easy. He likes you.” Monty gives Miller a look. Miller squeezes Monty’s thigh under the table. “And yes, I can tell. Just breathe. Trust me, he already loved you before he met you. He’s just trying to be intimidating because he’s a loser.”

Miller’s father—he’d told Monty to “Call me David, please,” which had terrified Monty instantly and actually intimidated him more than anything else he’s done—is talking on his phone in the kitchen, while Monty and Miller sit at the dining room table. Miller just nudges Monty’s knee and continues eating, a small smile on his face. Miller seems absolutely at ease, which soothes over Monty’s nerves. 

Miller’s dad is apparently on a phone call dealing with some business thing, even though he retired ages ago. Miller had rolled his eyes when Monty pointed that out, and said, “My father can only rest one day of the week.”

Monty keeps himself focused on two things: the lunch in front of him, which is some delicious pasta that apparently has been in the Miller family for ages (Monty has already criticized Miller for not making it before), and Miller’s hand on the inside of his thigh, where his thumb is running calming circles on the inside of Monty’s knee. 

David’s phone call must end, because he returns to the dining room. “I left my cellphone in the kitchen,” he says. “Should’ve left it there beforehand. Now, where were we? Oh, yes—I wanted to ask how the two of you met. Nate still hasn't told me that.”

Miller throws back his head and laughs when Monty chokes on his pasta. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is all thanks to ash, who said no fandom was complete unless they had a p&p au . . . and so i, the eternal p&p lover, arrived


End file.
